


What's in a name?

by Lady_Elwing



Category: Charloe - Fandom, Revolution (TV)
Genre: AU, Charlie Matheson hooker, F/M, am not romanticizing prostitution, charloe - Freeform, more angsty than smutty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-02-15 15:11:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 61,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2233644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Elwing/pseuds/Lady_Elwing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlie Matheson has been one of Drexel’s girl since she was 13. Many years later, she is sent to please the infamous General Sebastian Monroe. Things don’t go as planned and both their lives take an unexpected turn. In the midst of war and revolution, can two broken people find some peace together or are their circumstances too overpowering? Beyond romance and seduction, these two characters start a journey within themselves that can either lead them to destruction or light; or both.<br/> / Charloe/ Angst and slow build up (at least in the romantic department)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Death Wish

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sammxhill](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sammxhill/gifts).



> This story is far from my usual repertoire. I even surprised myself by how inspired I was by Sammxhill's request/prompt and, even more, surprised at how fast I wrote the draft for this story. Don't expect that much smut but mostly psycho-angst and darkness. 
> 
> Since characters and people are the product of their upbringing and context, it's unavoidable that in this AU setting, Charlie might be a bit OOC. I'm doing my best to keep her in line thought. I'm also a bit nervous about my Bass Monroe. Expect some OOC (not too much I hope!)
> 
> Let me know what you think!

Charlotte Matheson took a step back to avoid the door slamming on her nose. She heard Drexel laugh. She wanted to spit on his face but she could also feel the scar on her left thigh burning. It was the ghost of a searing pain; the only souvenir of the last time she had tried to break free. How old had she been? She couldn’t remember. Hell, she didn’t even know her own age.  
  
She had been one of Drexel’s girls for a long time now. She was used to being told the names of her customers. If they were important, the man himself came to break her the news and tell her to behave. This time her eyes had gone wide and she had to fight the urge of throwing up. She had merely nodded but once Drexel had left the room, she had emptied her stomach in her chamber pot or whatever they called it.  
  
After she was done,  she had thoroughly washed her mouth and face. Staring into the mirror above the rickety table that served as a vanity, she was wondering what she looked like to others. She had been called pretty, beautiful even and often spirited. But once that last word was used, she always knew she would have a rough night.  
  
There was something about the blackout that made men want to snuff out any light or crush any remnant of hope. She could remember those countless eyes staring with relish as they beat her into submission. At first, she would fight back but she had very soon learned that those men got off with crushing women. And it was better for her own survival to just let it go.  
  
She frowned at her mirror. She didn’t have time for this. Soon enough, they would be here to take her to her new client. She had no choice. She sighed as she got up and reminded herself that she was lucky. She had managed to stay away from heroin and any other drugs. She knew many girls used it to get through the day and nights but Charlie had found another drug that served the same purpose: numbness.  
  
She stripped off the dress she was wearing and began to wash herself. She hated the scented oil she had to smear on her body. She longed to be in her own home and use their homemade soap that smell of flowers and sun. It seemed so far away that sometimes it felt like an illusion.  
  
 Jenny had given her a dark blue slip dress. It clung to her curves or whatever was left of them. She hardly ate and yet she has still developed into a woman. Nobody from her past would recognize her, not even Danny.  
  
She turned around and tried to glance over her shoulder to see her reflection in the mirror. There was no way to hide the whip marks that would never fad. She could still remember when it happened. It was the last time she had tried to run away. Drexel had whipped her himself. Her scars were barely visible but she knew what it meant. And quite often, it gave creative ideas to her customers.  
  
They would be taking her to Philadelphia as it was out of the question that her new client left his city. Bile rose to her mouth but she took a deep breath. She couldn’t run away from it and it would be better to get on with it.  
  
Once she had realized that there would be no going home, she had learned to protect herself. All the armor she could afford was lipstick and mascara. A few spritz of a cheap pre-blackout perfume and she was Izzy.  
  
She never gave them her name. It was the last thing that she still had.  
  
 _I am Charlotte Matheson_ , Charlie, she thought to herself.  
  
She had long lost hope of ever seeing her family. How would they ever find her or even take her out of this house? Her father was no warrior, nor was anyone around them.  
  
Hope was something she had to let go. What she clung to was survival. There was no hope of being free but she would survive it no matter what.  
  
She scrunched her nose. Her thoughts were becoming too dark and introspective. She didn’t have this luxury because tonight she was going to lose the last remnant of dignity. Tonight, she was going to please the never satisfied General Sebastian Monroe.  
  
Her hair cascaded over her shoulders, a few strokes of brush were enough to make them shine. Charlie was almost ready but there was still a few minutes before they came to get her. She sat on a chair and closed her eyes. Willing all thoughts about herself to recede, she locked Charlie Matheson deep within her. Feelings and thoughts were weakness. She would need all her strength tonight.  
  
The journey to Philadelphia wasn’t as long as she hoped it would be. She peered from the window of the carriage and was amazed at the bustling activity around her. She had barely strayed away from the village when she was snatched. It was too painful to remember the particulars but before her capture, life had seem so full of sunlight and laughter.  
  
Her father and Maggie had told her countless times that the world beyond their community was dangerous and wild. But the need to know more and discover new experiences had pushed her to wander off. Her wanderlust had died long ago but she had admit that she was curious about this city. It was the first time since the blackout that she was seeing one.  
  
They halted and  her hands tightened around her little handbag. She got out and followed Drexel’s man. Her thoughts were carefully tucked back into that corner of her mind.  
She was searched thoroughly. Clothes, shoes, personal belonging and even her hair were potentially dangerous. It should have felt violating but she was beyond that. With a dazed expression, she beheld the smooth interior and long hallways. Although a profuse military personnel was walking about, it felt more cosy than Dexter’s mansion.  
  
A guard walked her through a long corridor and opened a heavy door. She noticed right away the huge bed and couldn’t take her eyes away from it. The man ruefully handed her a glass of something strong.  
  
“General Monroe will be here soon“ She nodded and waited until he left the room to explore. She was standing by the window, next to a nicely stocked bar. She was used to seeing a lot of booze and recreational substances at Drexel’s but this was something else. Across the bed, there was a fireplace with two armchairs and a slouchy sofa but Charlie didn’t want to sit.  
  
She wasn’t scared but her body was stiff. She tiptoed to the wide windows. It was fascinating to see something else than the wilderness that surrounded her ‘home’. Everything was so new and vibrant that she couldn’t stop herself from breaking out of her numbness.  
  
There was no use in chiding herself, a thrill of excitement was coursing through her veins and making her quiver.  
  
The door creaked. A few steps, she could sense the determined presence behind her. She turned her head slowly and felt betrayed by the first thought that strayed in her mind Fuck. He’s hot.  
  
With a glance, Sebastian Monroe seized the girl in front of him. Drexel always sent him the best. The only rule was to chose willing girls. He had broken all rules of morality but there was one he refuse to cross.  
  
She looked diffident and yet she surprised him when she spoke with a witty tone.  
  
“Took you long enough.“  
  
It had been a while since someone had spoken to him like that. Women, girls flirted and men didn’t dare cross him. Miles was long gone and nobody else dared. A slow feral smile spread on his lips.  
  
  
“ Feisty Izzy… That’s you name, right?“  
  
She nodded slowly, trying to keep a coy smile on. Her surroundings were daunting and the man in front of her was from a different breed altogether.  
  
Gallantly, he filled another glass for her but as he handed her the glass, he added, “See, I don’t think it’s your name.“  
  
Her face fell and his smile grew wider. His voice was so low that it chilled her to her bones. Who didn’t know about General Monroe’s temper and reckless actions? Some say it happened after that Miles Matheson had left his side. This stray thought made Charlie lose her countenance altogether. She rarely thought about that bit of information she had gathered at the brothel because it went beyond her ability to ponder. Her eyes drifted away from Sebastian Monroe’s burning gaze as her thoughts rambled. There were dusty childhood memories of an Uncle Miles who had come around with cherry ice cream and toys that she was too old for. In the privacy of her bedroom, she hadn’t even dared linking this Uncle to the Butcher of Baltimore but here, everything seemed possible and dangerous.  
  
This was the wrong time to even speculate about this but something about this man was awakening her memories.  
  
“You can call me Isobel if you prefer.“ she muttered in a petulant tone.  
  
They were both standing but she was trying hard to keep her legs from shaking. She had learned to handle men: to keep them satisfied and create the illusion they needed. But in this meticulously clean room, she was at loss.  
  
Someone knocked at the door and he sighed. Her took her arm and led her to the fireside.  
  
“Wait here.“  
  
Gingerly she sat on the edge of the black leather armchair. She had purposefully avoided the sofa where he would be able to sit next to her. She could hear him snapping at someone as she was trying a way to quicken the pace of this whole ordeal. The sooner it was over, the sooner she could go back to her own bed. She was hoping he was the type to fall asleep right after coitus as, unfortunately, she had been ordered for the whole night.  
  
The other girls had given her conflicting accounts of Sebastian Monroe. He was gentle. He was rough. He was kind and chatty. He was cruel and cold. That left her with no idea about which one was here tonight and thus with no tracks to follow.  
  
She got up and chose instead the sofa. She decided to follow her usual strategy. It was no different than any other encounter: all men were fundamentally the same. Now that he was out of her sight, she could be reasonable and efficient. The girls often said that she was good. It had taken her years to mold herself into the perfect lady of pleasure. She wasn’t sure her parents would be proud of her achievement. But her mother was gone and her father. She gulped and took another sip of her drink. Time and place.. She was here to work. She shouldn’t lull herself into the comfort of the leather brushing against her bare legs or the warmth of fire and even less with the effect of his gaze on her skin.  
  
She heard the door and Monroe walking to the bar. As he was pouring himself a drink, the brave and tough Charlotte Matheson gave herself a last order before she receded back into her numbness: Be charming for fuck sake and get this over with.  
  
Feeling him approach, she slowly uncrossed her legs and raised her eyes to appraise him.  
  
“Rough day?“  
  
“Rough year. So where were we?“  
  
He sat next to her, his body barely brushing hers.  
  
“You were trying to convince me that your name is Isobel. Sorry to break it to you but my shit detector is blinking.“  
  
“Who cares about my name?“ She smiled and brushed her hair away from her cleavage but his gaze didn’t waver from hers. His were so blue that it hurt her teeth. She was starting to feel more annoyed than charming: why was he making this so difficult? It was humiliating enough. And yet, it was delicious to banter with him. This is a customer, not a lover, she reminded herself. Last time she had been so frazzled was with this guy called Jason. She had been his first and something about his sweetness had made her melt. But he had betrayed her. She was a creature of the underworld, all she was allowed to do was to survive.  Her smile didn’t falter but he could see the annoyance in her eyes.  
  
It was actually amusing to see her trying hard to play her role.  It was a delightful diversion from his shitty day. He had just received the report that Ben Matheson had been found but Tom Neville had fucked it up and wounded him. Another news had rilled him to the core: there were rumors that Miles had been seen with his nephew Danny tracking down the convoy. His attention was so focused on this new piece on the board that he barely noticed the girl’s attempts at seducing him. What he needed tonight wasn’t to lose himself into a sexual escapade but rather forget about those dark thoughts gnawing at him. The chase was far more distracting and exciting than a quick tumble in the sheets.  
  
“You seem to forget who you’re talking to.“ His words were clipped, his tone cold. She peered at him and shuddered. How many times Drexel had reminded her of her place? This wasn’t the place for a typical Charlie Matheson outburst.  
  
“Right,“ she nodded with a blank look, “But I’m not here to talk.“  
  
She was a soldier. This was her battle. She had been through this game many times. She forced herself to place her hand on his knuckle. He flinched ever so slightly that she barely felt a tremor. She scrambled closer and tilted her face towards him. His eyes followed her movement making her body squirm under his blue eyes.  
  
She rarely felt anything with her other customers but his eyes… His eyes. Her other hand reached for his cheek. Her lips barely brushed his and she was pulled on his laps as he ravenously kissed her back. This was General Sebastian Monroe. His name was enough to evoke the darkness that was left in his trail. Charlie kissed him back. Her body was starving for the right touch.  
  
But before they could proceed further, he pushed her back to her seat. Breathlessly Charlie reached for him but he shoved her back.  
  
“What the fuck?“ she huffed.  
  
He laughed, making her anger bubble up.  
  
“Listen, I’m not here to…“  
  
“No you listen, you are here to please me.“ He replied implacably. The truth was that she was amusing him. It had been a while since he had wanted to talk to a girl rather than shut her up with his mouth. He wasn’t really bothered by her anonymity. They were not here to be friends. But her denial said probably more than she thought. He was intrigued and his paranoia was gnawing at the back of his head. Charlotte was exasperated. The rise and fall of her emotions had already left her mentally exhausted, but, the confusing manner in which he was acting was more than she could bear.  
“I guess the rumors are true. You might have a big army but the rest is… well.. beyond adequate.“ She snickered. The words had barely passed her lips and she was mortified. What had she done?  
  
His smile vanished. His manhood wasn’t threatened by those rumors but she was grating his already dark mood. Monroe straightened up.  
  
“Say it again and I’ll slit your throat.“ She bit her lips and folded her hands on her lap. She was  losing the battle between the subservience beaten into her and her very own spark.  
Every time she lost it, she had to pay the price. Right beneath her joined hands and the thin material of her dress, there was that ugly scar on her left thigh. It was like a brand that reminded her of the night Drexel had taught her that she was nobody and that she had nothing. What was left? Her life? And what a life it was.  
  
  
“Why? Are you hard of hearing? Or do people actually obey you?“ She smirked and stared back at Sebastian Monroe.  
  
  
Her back was straight,her head high. His hands encircled around her knuckled as he leaned towards her.  
  
“What are you? Suicidal?“  
  
“Maybe.“  
  
He was staring into her eyes. They weren’t the eyes of a man trying to seduce a woman. It was the gaze of a killer who didn’t even flinch when he pulls the trigger. Yes, he didn’t rape. But he killed, destroyed and tortured. He was General Sebastian Monroe. And this little slip of a girl was spitting on him as if he was just a boy. He hadn’t signed up for this. Willing girls, yes. No spitfire shield-maidens.  
  
His hands tightened around her wrists. They would bruise, thought idly Charlie. But suddenly his grip loosened and he got up.  
  
She had expected him to snap and kill her. She had wanted it. Escaping? How the hell could she ever do this. And where would she go? No, death was the only answer and he would be the perfect one to bestow it on her. In spite of herself, her eyes teared up and she was glad his back was turned to her.  
  
Quickly, she wiped them, hoping her makeup wasn’t smudged. He was looking out of the window with yet another filled glass in his hands. She was wondering whether she should mix herself a drink or just ignore her burning throat when he spoke again.  
  
“I just found out he’s coming after me. I still don’t understand why he  wanted to kill me. Why would Miles turn on me?“ His tone was monotonous, as if he was speaking to a therapist rather than a prostitute. Charlie wondered if he had lost his mind. Wasn’t he a feared dictator? Miles Matheson was the last person she wanted to hear about.  
  
“Maybe you bored him into murder with your constant whining?“ She snapped, knowing she shouldn’t have said that. He turned around and she was surprised to notice the hint of tears pooling in his eyes.  
  
“You’re lucky I can’t decide if I want to slash your head off or toss you out on your ass.“  
  
She got up and went to pour herself another drink.  
  
“All talk no action.“ Her voice was nonchalant. The glass had barely reached her lips when she felt a blade against her neck. Her eyes went wide.  
  
“You are nothing but trouble.“ His face was bare of any emotions as the blade scrapped her skin.  
  
“Just do it,“ she hissed.


	2. Breath of freedom

     
     _“Just do it,“ she hissed._  
  
    Instead of encouraging him, her voice startled him. The sword was back at his side and his gaze on the wall. He shook his head slightly: this wasn’t Miles. This was only a girl. She could be as infuriating and annoying as she wanted but she wasn’t a part of this Matheson debacle. He needed to focus.  
    “That would be too easy,“ his voice dripped with a hint of warning. He went back to staring out of the window. His thoughts were wandering between the desire of getting rid of this Isobel, Izzy, whoever she was. and the predicament he was in. In spite of him, his shoulders were slumped and his eyes rimmed with red.  
    “So much for being everyone’s worst nightmare.“ She muttered after downing her drink. Clearly, she wasn’t afraid of him. The thought made him straighten and step closer to her.  
    “What’s your problem?“ He was standing right behind her with a clean handkerchief. His tone was biting but his hand was gentle when he wiped off the blood trickling from the side of her neck. She didn’t flinch but her whole body was ready to jump away.  
    “Listen, I don’t care whether you’re Emily Thorne or Amanda Clarke. Actually, I don’t give a fuck about you. Finish your drink and you’re going back to Drexel. He better send me someone more fun next time.“  
  
    Her glass dropped and shattered at her feet, making him mutter a curse. She turned swiftly and he saw a flicker of emotion in her eyes: terror, pure terror. But before he could react, she leaned towards him, her hands snaking behind his head and her lips on his. Her tongue slipped into his mouth and she pressed her breasts against his chest. The feel of her soft body moulding his was delicious. His hands travelled down her back as he kissed her back. But his mind was still working its wheels and he pulled his face away, their body still entwined.  
    “That bad, huh?“  
    “What?“ Her eyes were hazy with desire and her face flushed. He wanted to stop thinking, just go with the flow and unwrap her in his bed but his mind wasn’t settling down. Too much coffee? Or, too much Matheson? Ben, Danny Rachel, Miles, they were enough to drive a sane men to the edge.  
    “You’re scared to go back to Drexel. Why?“ His eyes were searching hers as sharply as the most skilled interrogator.  
    “Why d’you think?“ Her lips looked far too enticing and yet a spark of concern lit his eyes.  
    “He treats you that…“ His right hand was still on her shoulders and he could feel a thick scar through the strands of her hair, “Viciously.“ He finished his remark with an almost horrified tone. He moved behind her, traced what he could see of her scars and she could feel his breath in her hair. She took a step away from him.  
    “Really? The great Sebastian Monroe who slaughtered so many is concerned about a …“ She couldn’t say the word, she wasn’t a prostitute. If she didn’t say it then it wasn’t true. She was prepared for his retort but instead he shook his head.  
    “ I really didn’t know. I mean. I’m not an idiot, I know Drexel is no angel but that… How old are you?“  
    “Come on!“ She stomped her foot. He was making her dizzy with his moods. But he didn’t seem to have noticed to he reaction. He looked sad but it was probably because of the flicker of candlelight.  
    “I’m sorry.“ She stilled. Did he really say it or did she imagine it? Puzzled, she peered at his face. It wasn’t an illusion, he actually looked sad and had a faraway look in his eyes. _Wow he’s human after all_ , she thought.  
    “How did you end up there?“ He asked so softly that she barely heard him. Her heart skipped a beat. He was towering over her but he wasn’t actually looking at her. Another drink was in his hands and he was sloshing the dark amber beverage around. She racked her mind to come up with an answer. This wasn’t a conversation she was used to have. Men didn’t want to know anything that would make her human and the girls knew that dwelling on the past was the most intoxicating poison. Her nails tore into the soft skin of her arms. It was surreal. Nothing about this evening was going as expected. She should be dead by now or pinned under him. Both seemed less threatening than being under the scrutiny of this stubborn man. Shrugging, she tug a strand of her hair and twisted it around her finger. Her attempts at mustering the seductive vamp in her were pathetic. Charlotte Matheson was stirring and wanted to be heard. It didn’t matter if the person inquiring was the worst of them all, he was the only one who seemed to care. It was as if he knew exactly what were the buttons to push to make her come to life.  
    “I wanted to see how the world was beyond our village… Barely made it one day and they got me.“ Her voice broke a little but she was proud that no tears were even gracing her eyes.  He sighed loudly and turned away from her.  
    “This wasn’t supposed to happen. The Republic should have been a safe place.“ His head was bowed and his eyes staring holes on the floor. She moved towards him and took his hand. It was an impulsive gesture but one that she only offered to her fellow sisters.  
She had seen enough broken people to fill a lifetime and this certainly was not a man at the full bloom of his glory. He looked up in surprise and they gazed at each other wordlessly. He wasn’t a saint but he wasn’t a man like Drexel either. Something in the manner he was looking at her, reminded her of Danny and her hand slipped away. Sebastian Monroe was a far cry from her beloved Danny. She swallowed a sob. Monroe hadn’t moved but his gaze wasn’t on her anymore.  
    “Miles and me. We started this republic together… And now he’s coming after me once more. I never meant for all of this to happen but it happened. How fucked up is this?“ Her stomach knot. Miles Matheson was the last person she wanted to think about right now. Some secrets are best left unknown by our one’s consciousness. Impatiently, she moved closer to Monroe. Her left hand pulled his face closer and she kissed him while her right hand had slipped down to cup him over his pants. Her teeth bit his lower lip and he growled into her mouth as he pushed for another kiss. All the words, worries and thoughts that had been haunting them were melting away and all that existed was need and flesh. He effortlessly slipped her dress off her body. His hands moved to cover her breast as she was furiously trying to push down his pants. This time, they didn’t speak again until they were lying breathless in his bed.    
  
    They had tossed and turned, trying to keep the upper hand but Bass had won in the end. He rolled off Charlie and stared at the ceiling. Charlotte usually was strictly business: ‘hop and off’ as she called it. She would usually hop off the bed, bid adieu to her customer, clean herself and be ready for another one or just call it a night; whatever was required of her. It was the first time she was entertaining somewhere else and it was also the first time she was staying the night. She knew she should creep to the other side of the bed or at least not do what she was about to do. She snuggled closer to him, he head pillowed on his chest. His arm went around her instinctively but he didn’t look at her. She felt safe, warm and so sleepy. She didn’t fight slumber at it tool ahold of her. The last time she had been embraced by someone was by her friend Marie and it had felt nothing like this.  
  
  
    The next morning, he barely acknowledge her as he went to prepare for his day. Charlie lingered in the bed, not caring whether she was covered or not. Once she was done basking in the warm glow of the morning and waiting for him to come back, she quickly freshened up and change back to her dress. She padded barefoot to the sounds of cutlery and found a door ajar, it led her to the grand dining room. It must have been for private uses only as it was attached to the General’s bedroom but it was big enough for a reception, or so she thought. Monroe’s plate was filled and he beckoned her to sit in front of him. She didn’t reach for the lavish display of food but filled herself a mug of coffee. At Drexel’s they usually drank some kind of mix of chicory and roasted grains but had coffee on special occasions like Christmas.  
    “Good morning!“  
    “Morning.“ His tone indicated that he wasn’t a morning person. She watched him chew and glanced at the food once more. She noticed some kind of bumpy small cakes filled with raisins and her curiosity taking the better of her, she asked him, “What are those?“  
    “Muffins.“  
    “Oh well. Never seen them before. We don’t have grand breakfast tables back,“ Her forced charming tone dropped as she finished, “ home.“ It couldn’t be her home but was it then? Her jail? Her life. He seemed disinterested and she nodded to herself. She knew about not having too many expectation from her customers or any people for that matter. After all, sex was just sex. Nothing more. And he was certainly the king of bizarre. She mentioned something about the weather and the conversation dropped. She didn’t try to eat because her throat was feeling closed up. Her eyes darted to Monroe but his face was blank and he was reading some report or newspaper. It seemed pretty domestic or as she imagined a normal breakfast would be. It had none of the crassness she had gotten used to at Dexter. At the most, she was the one tarnishing the picture with her wrinkled dress and bed hair. He was cleanly shaven and his hair seemed crisp and probably cleaner than hers. She decided to take advantage of the opportunity she had and tasted a toast smeared with jam.  
    The door opened and a man in uniform came to give Monroe a report. Charlie barely looked at him as he talked about a target being brought to Philadelphia in a few days and that Miles Matheson had been spotted in the outskirts of Philadelphia. Without even suspecting who the target could be, she went to the bathroom to wash her hands sticky with cherry jam.  She was out of earshot when Monroe commented.  
    “No doubt Miles think he’s smarter than me and will get Ben before me. How’s Ben?“  
    “Conscious but barely speaking, Sir. His wounds are healing.“  
  
    When Charlie came back from the lavish bathroom, Monroe was standing alone.  
    “I’ve got a few things to do… You know. A republic to handle. Be back in a few hours. Feel free to entertain yourself.“ Domestic, indeed. Charlie nodded and half expected him to kiss her but he didn’t acknowledge her further. He left his apartments after grabbing a stack of paper and his trusted sword. She watched him leave, his shoulders rigid, his face a hard mask. So this was the real General Monroe? She didn’t know whether she should feel honored that he had shown his vulnerability last night, or, run for the hills. She stood up, took a few step but then decide to sit again. She took another sip of her now cold coffee and tried to make sense of this new situation. Monroe hadn’t mention someone coming to escort her back to Drexel’s. He was actually expecting her to be around. Well, it didn’t mean she had to. He probably thought she was a stupid blonde. This always worked in her favor. She hated playing stupid but it was not like she was a trained fighter or rebel. She was just a girl who knew how to play men…. Well usually, she was pretty good at her job. But Sebastian Monroe was confusing.  
  
    She went back to his bedroom. The bed was still a mess. The help was probably waiting for his highness to leave. Charlie looked down at her dress critically.  
She hadn’t brought a change of clothes. To gather her wits, she relied on the familiarity of putting on makeup. She hadn’t removed it the previous night but it wouldn’t hurt to have an extra layer of crimson on her lips and some black on her eyelashes. It made her feel stronger. Clothes were another matter. She couldn’t stand this dress and it would make it easier to spot her. And those shoes? She was pretty sure they were used to keep women on their toes in the pre-Blackout world. She noticed the large mahogany wardrobe. Well, his clothes wouldn’t fit but they would be far more comfortable than hers. She pulled one drawer to the next, each were filled with uniforms.  
    “We get it. You’re a general and have no life.“ The last drawer was stuck and she had to use all her weight to open it. She ended up on her behind. There was a necklace, an old faded dress and a few other objects that didn’t make sense to her. But her search was successful as she pulled out a faded light blue shirt and, she couldn’t believe her luck, jeans! It must have been his secret drawer or something, filled with pre-General era things. She didn’t care much about his secrets. If she had the time, her curiosity would have probably made her inspect every item but she didn’t have the time. The jeans were not fitting her slime frame and the sleeves of the shirt were far too long but at least she didn’t look like a lady of pleasure. She tried the door and of course, there was a guard. He expressionlessly stared.  
  
    “Hey soldier! I’m going out for a stroll.“ She said with a smile  
    “I have orders to…“  
    “Really? Sebastian,“ she drawled, “told me that I could go to the market to buy new clothes.“ She widened her eyes and made sure her voice was as sweet and thick as honey “ I mean, look at me! I look awful!“ She giggled and almost pinched herself for overdoing it. The guard was mesmerized by her shirt that she had failed to button. Modesty wasn’t really her strong suit.  
    “Are you s…“  
    “I’ll be back very soon. Don’t worry.“ She winked.  
And with that she was gone. She had no idea how to get out of the mansion but she somehow managed to stumble into the daylight without anyone stopping her. In a few steps she was lost into the crowd. Her heart was beating wildly and she was smiling so much her mouth was hurting. It felt so good. No Drexel. No customers. No more simulated orgasms. Free.  
  
    All the faces she saw were so different. She had gotten so used to hollow eyes, filth and darkness. Here, some were smiling, laughing and talking. It seemed so mundane yet so exotic. It brought forward some old memories of the estate and even some dusty ones from before the blackout.  
    She spotted a small shop that sold second hands goods. She couldn’t afford anything else. Her little purse only held a few coins. She hadn’t planned for this lucky strike. She spent a long time looking at jeans and shirts that could fit her better but her feet were hurting so much that she couldn’t ignore the sensible choice: boots were her priority. And a belt to hold these ill fitting clothes. She carefully counted the coins to pay for her finds but noticed that the man was also selling knives and swords under the counter.  
    “How much for a knife?“  
    “For you my sweet?“ He showed her a few options and it turned out she could afford the smallest. She hadn’t touched a gun in her life but seen enough men handling them at Drexter’s. They didn’t really care about whether it was legal. But knife were the girls’ domain. Everyone had at least one dangerous customer in their lives. Charlie shrugged off these thoughts about a life she would never have.  
  
    A delicious, mouth-watering smell made her stop in her track. A few people were standing in front of a stall. She peered to see what was making her stomach growl. Fries! She had read about them and probably tasted them as a child but here she could enjoy them. She didn’t hesitate to hand the peddler her last coins. The afternoon was stretching to an end as she was licking off the salt from her fingers. She noticed a group of Militia soldiers passing by and ducked in a side alley. Were they looking for her? It was only then that she considered how angry Monroe must have been. But he wouldn’t mind that much, would he? She was just a girl. He could find a replacement. As for losing face, well, none of his men knew that she had taken advantage of his kindness. She didn’t feel bad about it then why did she feel slightly guilty? Well, on the other hand, Monroe hadn’t payed for her service so he owed her and not the other way around. The sight of the Militia had sent a shill down her back. She should leave the city. She had no idea how she would get through the checkpoints. The joy of being free to do whatever she wanted had distracted her. Maybe she should lay low and wait for a few days?  
    She creeped out of the alley to peer into the main street when a pair of hands grabbed her. She struggled to face him and grabbed the handle of her knife.  
    “Hey baby!“ Charlie pushed away the repulsive and smelly man. Her protective instinct kicked in as she jabbed her knife in his stomach and shoved him away. He was hollering when she broke into a run. A militia soldier soon heard him and rushed towards him.  
    “Are you ok?“  
    “That bitch! She knifed me!“ He pointed towards the direction she had disappeared  
    “How did she look like?“  
    “Long blonde hair. Nice boobs.“  The soldier turned to his superior.  
    “It has to be her.“ He nodded and gave orders to his men and they scrambled in the direction Charlie had taken.  
    “Are you going to get her?“ panted the man.  
    “The General is looking for her.“  
    “Good. I hope he hangs the bitch.“  
    The soldier didn’t answer but grimaced. He didn’t think the General wanted to harm her. He had heard the guard at the door had received quite an earful. There were rumours and whispers about the General losing his mind. Why was he so adamant about keeping a camp followers? But whispers were all the people had got under the iron fist of General Monroe.  
  
    Soon enough, he saw three of his men dragging the girl in their midst. So much trouble for a girl who didn’t seem to put up a fight.  
    Charlie followed them silently with her eyes downcast. It was one thing to stab a drunk but these men knew what they were doing. And her whole body and mind could still remember last time she had tried to run. The scars on her back prickled. There never was a way out for her. Why did she even try to break free? This time, she had crossed the line.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Amanda Clarke/Emily Thorne is a reference to the show Revenge with a character who uses another identity to avenge her father. I thought it was fitting for Charlie. ;) It came out in 2011, so there are chances Bass had heard about it. Not sure he would have watched it, though. Thank you so much for reading and leaving comments. I'm truly overwhelmed. I hope you're enjoying the story.  
> They had to sleep together. It was the purpose of her 'visit' and her only way to stay out of trouble and protect herself from Drexel's wrath.  
> Yet, Charlie has been beaten down by Drexel but who wouldn't jump at this opportunity to run away? And Philadelphia must have been quite overwhelming for a girl who hadn't seen anything of the country.  
> Let me know what you think. And once again, thank you SO much for your enthusiasm. It means the world to me.


	3. Peculiar Ward

    Charlotte was shivering as she was walked back to the General’s quarters. Sebastian Monroe wasn’t brutally petty like Drexel but he was capable of more. She had a feeling that little deep scar on her thigh would be a joke next to what was waiting for her. The door of the General’s headquarter was barely opened when a voice made Charlie turn around.  
    “Izzy! Is that you?“ Her eyes went wide as the only people she knew were Drexel’s customers. Her face drained of blood when  she recognized the young man wearing the Militia uniform.  
    “Jason? Fancy meeting you here.“ The soldiers escorting her were taken aback. They didn’t step away but they didn’t push her in either. The young man looked stricken as he eyed carefully the men around him. He had heard about the special order issued by Sebastian Monroe. But at this point, most of his orders didn’t make sense. He hadn’t know who was the girl but now he realized he knew her far better than most. His hand found her arm and she flinched.  
    “What do you think you’re doing?“   
    “I’m sorry for what happened…“   
    “Sorry? Sorry?“ her voice rose as she repeated the rhetorical question but then dropped as she continued, “Do you know how much I had to pay for it?“ Her hands fisted and she moved towards him but one of her guards stepped in.  
    “Miss, General Monroe has give us strict orders.“ Jason’s face fell.  
    “You’re with him?“ His voice sounded both boyish and hurt when he asked. Charlie laughed but her eyes were still full of anger.  
    “What? Do you think I’m going out on a date with him? You made sure I would never be able to make my own choice.“ The guard took her arm and dragged her inside. She heard Jason’s plea.  
    “I’m so sorry Izzy! I didn’t mean to.“  
    “Fuck you.“ She muttered under her breath. She was rushed through the endless corridors. Even if she wanted, she wouldn’t be able to find her way herself. She was unceremoniously thrust inside.  
    “Is there any way this can stay between us?“ The superior looked at her with raised eyebrows. She breathed, “Didn’t think so.“ Her shoulders slumped and turned towards the fireplaces. The flames were hypnotizing her and she hardly heard the door lock behind her. She sat on the sofa and with her chin on her knees, she let her thoughts drift back to the past. Of all her customers young and old, Jason had left his imprint in her, quite literally. Her right hand massaged her neck and slipped beneath her shirt to trace the outline of the scars. They went down to to the small of her back. The wounds had been deep and hadn’t healed well, leaving protuberant scars that went as far as the beginning of her buttocks. Her face was hard as she examined the events that had lead to the whipping that had made her forsake any remnant of hopes of ever being free.  
      
    It was difficult to remember her age as time had scrambled after her entry into Drexel’s house. She must have been fifteen or sixteen, maybe older? She had been quite young but starting to get used to her new station in life. She closed her eyes to picture the first time she had seen Jason.  
A young Militia soldier had been ushered in her bedroom. He was looking at his feet and she could have swore that he was blushing.   
    “Hello Soldier, can I help you with something?“ He had mumbled and she had let out a giggle. Gemma and Bonnie had chastised her later about letting her guards down. Customers were buying pleasure from her, they were not here to find love. Charlie had nodded but her eyes were sparkling. What a fool she had been and how aptly she had learned her lesson. She jumped out of her seat in frustration.  
      
    In a few steps, she was standing over the bar and pouring herself a glass. Someone had replenished the drinks and added fresh glass. It must be nice to have everything done for you. She could get used to this. The locked door didn’t bother her that much, after all, she was used to this. It was safe and she knew exactly how to act. Now, if only Sebastian Monroe had been a normal man. But then again, had he been like her other customers, she would be long gone by now. The drink distracted her from her memories of Jason and the aftermath of their time together. Her present wasn’t a nice happy distraction either. Her eyes kept on going to the massive door but Monroe wasn’t showing his face. She wasn’t his girlfriend or anyone for that matter, just a missing item. She could have been his pet that had wandered off. Whatever he thought of her, she wanted her punishment to be over. Maybe this time he will kill her. She wasn’t afraid of dying, nor of rape or even torture but, losing what was left of her integrity made her shudder. And she couldn’t phrase it but she knew that Sebastian Monroe could see right through her and would find her hidden secrets. And she would lose herself. It would be worse than dying. She yawned. Her legs were feeling heavy and thoughts were grating the inside of her head. Charlie kicked off her boots and curled herself on the couch.  She wasn’t going to sleep, her predicament was too dangerous to really relax but closing her eyes felt good.  
  
      
    When Bass walked in, he noticed the stillness in the room. His efforts at capturing Miles had been in vain but Neville was working on it. When one of his men came to inform him they had found her,  for a split second, he had confused Miles and the girl. Why was he pointlessly hunting down people who didn’t give a damn about him? He didn’t care for this girl but that didn’t give her the right to do the same. He had bought her from Drexel, offered her a new life and she had shown her gratitude by running for the hills. His blood was boiling. He was already on tenterhooks because of the Matheson family and what had been his distraction turned to be equally difficult. He couldn’t see her anywhere. He opened his mouth to call the guards but he stumbled on a pair of boots. He spied her golden silly hair spilling from the sofa. He stalked to the fireside and found her asleep. She was huddled against the sofa’s back with her back towards the fire. Her left leg was bent but the other one was dangling out of the sofa and her hands were pillowing her head. He wanted to shake her awake and pour out his fury for her insolent display. But that anger was drifting away with each of her breath that made her chest rise and fall. He noticed the bloodstained knife on the floor. In a swift movement, he took hold of it and locked it up in his desk. He had been told about the man she had stabbed and about Jason Neville’s outburst. The latter had already been a pain in the neck for insubordination and rumors of treachery. Maybe it was time he dealt with him. He glanced at the girl. Her face looked so young and innocent, she looked out of place in this carnival. He shook his head slightly to gather his thoughts and went to pour himself a drink. He settled on the armchair and his gaze wandered back to the body sprawled in front of him. Sure, her relaxed face made her look youthful but her body told another story. His eyes took in every curve displayed before him, lingering at her hips and small wrists.  
    He had executed people for less. She kept on crossing the line. As he took another sip of his drink, he wondered what kept him from getting rid of her. There were plenty women around, more skilled, sexier or smarter. He could easily replace her and, in fact, he could go on without a woman gracing his bed. Her voice, her eyes and that insufferable insolence were irritating him, amusing him, yet, somehow, it made him respect her guts. Even when he could see fear in her eyes, her demeanor remained stubborn. A door banged in the distance; she sighed, moved to her back and stretched her arms over her head. Monroe’s throat went dry. She turned her head and her sleepy gaze caught his sharp look. She sat up, brought her legs closer and wrapped her arms around them.  
    “Hi.“  
    In an instant, his face was stern and scrubbed from any trace of desire or tenderness.  
  
    “Did you have fun?“ His tone didn’t stop her from smirking.  
    “Actually, yes.“  
    “Do you know how many men and time I wasted?“  
    “Don’t really care.“ She snorted.  
    “You should really watch your mouth.“ His voice was soft but with a dangerous edge. She shrugged but Monroe could see apprehension in her eyes. Drexel really did a number on his girls. And maybe, he did it too. He had made sure that both men and women flinched with his very gestures. He could feel the temper rising at her effrontery but he was exhausted by his long day. Watching her sleep had made him relax, the same way some people find peace in watching a cat sleep. He stood up and carefully set his glass on it’s usual place and pinched the bridge of his nose. He heard the servants preparing the dinning room, it was a familiar sound for him but he knew that this time they would be setting up a place for her. He dragged a hand through his curly mop of hair in frustration and took a deep breath.  
    “Care for dinner? I’m having mine in one hour. Feel free to join.“ His words were casual but he was observing her face closely. Her eyes didn’t shy away and her face remained composed. He nodded and walked to the door, her voice interrupted him.  
    “What am I doing here? Didn’t Drexel send someone?“   
    “Do you want to go back there?“ He had turned around to face her. Arms crossed to his chest, he seemed genuinely curious.  
    “No but…“  
    “Not buts. I don’t have the time for this,“ his tone changed, “see you in an hour.“  
He flashed her a brilliant smile confusing her further.  
    “Oh and Emily Thorne… The door will be locked. No Shenanigans.“ He added.  
    “My name isn’t…“ he ignored her as he walked out of the door. She huffed in frustration and stretched again. She was wide awake now. She padded to the bathroom and washed her face.  She looked haggard in the mirror and her eye makeup was smudged. Good riddance, she hated it anyways. Applying makeup was part of a routine that she no longer needed. She paused and stared into her own gaze. She didn’t have to go back. Drexel. No more beatings, disgusting men and quiet desperation. Yet, it was nothing like the freedom she had tasted in the street of Philadelphia. She was still under someone’s thumb. Given that for now, Sebastian Monroe had treated her like a human being, there was no guarantee it would continue. Charlie sighed and remember something her dad used to say: Beggars can’t be choosers. She looked at the bathtub. Baths were also part of the routine of a woman of pleasure. It wouldn’t do if their skins were anything but lustrous and soft. She heard voices from the dining room and shrugged: didn’t Monroe acted like she belonged here? She was drinking his liquor, sleeping in his bed and eating his food. A bath wouldn’t be too much, would it? She knocked at the dining room and the servant lady peered out.  
“Hi! I was wondering if there was any way to have some warm water… for a bath? I’m sorry but I didn’t know who to ask.“ She added quickly. The woman looked at her with something like pity and smiled.  
    “Of course. I’ll arrange this.“  
Charlie sat on a chair by the sink. She could hear the woman speaking to someone else. A door opened and someone left but she could hear cutlery being set and two women speaking.  
    “Poor girl I wonder what the General wants with her.“  
    “What else?“ laughed the other woman.  
    “I just don't see why? It’s widely known that both Ben and Rachel Matheson have been reunited behind bars and that the Butcher of Baltimore is hot on their tails.“  
    “You don’t say?“  
    “Seriously! Jim has seen them and I think there’s also a son. I’m just saying that the General already has enough on his plate without..“ Charlie stopped listening and leaned her head against the cool tiles. Her family. Her family, along her long dead mother were alive and just within reach. The whole room swayed but she stood up abruptly but the door opened and a woman followed by two men brought huge buckets of warm water.  Before leaving the bathroom, the servant handed Charlie a small bottle with some kind of oil.  
    “It’s lavender.They say it’s soothing.“ Charlie muttered a few words of thanks. She was grateful for this small act of kindness but she was finding it hard to struggle against her own demons. She barely waited for them to leave before she started to strip off. The warm water was soothing her tense muscles but her mind was reeling. She stretch her feet out of the water and ducked her head under the water. It felt so warm and safe but she eventually had to come out for air. As she methodically washed her hair, she focused on the task at hand. She may have been surrounded by luxury but she didn’t have the luxury of feeling. She knew very well if she started to cry, she wouldn’t be able to stop. And then what would she do? Her senses and wits were her only weapons for survival. Dried eyed, Charlie Matheson immersed herself into the warm water to escape the memory of the faces of those she called mom and dad.  
  
    Monroe walked through the corridor with a gaze that made everyone back off. Rachel was at the root of his tempestuous mood. His fury at Rachel was almost making him stagger. He had to admire her desire to survive but she was becoming more difficult as time went by. Even with the presence of Ben, she wasn’t budging. Well maybe he should open his eyes and tell him about his dear brother Miles’ infatuation with his wife. He stopped at this thought, he was right in front of his door. His hand was curled around the handle. Even now, after all the bad blood, he couldn’t betray Miles like this. He hated his weakness but Miles was his brother. He’d rather shoot him down than betray his confidence. He swallowed back this idea and walked in his room. The girl was standing by the window. Her face was pale and avoided his gaze. He nodded at her but she pretended not to notice. He was pouring a drink when she spoke.  
    “So what do you expect me to do?“ He kept his attention on his drink. Truth was, he really needed one.  
    “What am I? Your pet? Mistress?“ She looked angrier than before, puzzling him further. Hadn't he been kind enough? He hadn’t even made her pay for her little stunt.  
    “Are you planning to give me a headache?“ He grunted.  
    “Are you planning to answer my questions with other questions?“ Strangely, her cheekiness reminded him of the other blonde he had to deal with today. He appraised her and this time she was looking back at him. A glint in her eyes and the way she was twisting her hands as she spoke, made him bit back a laugh. No, there wasn’t anything remotely similar between the psychotic Rachel Matheson and this urchin. The first one was a pain in the ass and the latter was an intoxicating breath of fresh air. The door opened and Charlie recognized the voice of the housekeeper.  
    “Dinner is ready, General.“ He beckoned her towards the dining room. She shrugged and followed him. He hardly used it now that Miles was gone and he had no actual friend.  
As they walked to the dining room adjoining the bedroom, he noticed that she was wearing one of his old shirts. Earlier, he had been too distracted by her body to even notice what was covering it. Now he couldn’t help but notice how comfortable and at ease she looked in jeans and shirt. As if dresses were the costume and this was the real ‘her’, whoever she was.  
    “You raided my wardrobe?“  
    “What? Was I supposed to do the walk of shame in my dress?“ She wrinkled her nose. “I hate this dress.“ Gallantly he held the chair for her as if he had done this thousands of time to thousands of women. She awkwardly plopped on it. As he sat in front of her, he didn’t let her even look at the food before he began scrutinizing her.  
    “My men tell me you know Jason Neville.“ Charlie sighed.  
    “Can I at least have some food before I tackle this one?“ Her stomach growled in approval and Monroe couldn’t contain his mirth. it was a small laugh but it was a surprising sound to even himself. He was in the middle of the most sticky and stinky Matheson situation ever and yet, right now, he didn’t give a damn. He gestured towards the food and she filled her plate with some mash potatoes and meat. She leisurely took bite after bite, watching him coyly. She had no desire of talking about Jason. His betrayal felt still raw although it had happened years ago. He had been the last drop that made her drown completely in the murky waters of Drexel’s world. She was also enjoying her fair. In her former situation, food was seldom served warm and nobody really sat around dinner tables. It was eaten in corners and fast enough to avoid any problems or delay with their job. The food in front of her smelled so good and tasted even better. She wouldn’t trade her former life for this, although, and she cautiously considered the man in front of her, the ground was far more shaky. He was looking at her expectantly. He had this way of regarding her with such a calm and controlled air that she could imagine him bursting up without any notice and turn the table upside down. It made her balance her fork against her plate and wipe her hands.  
    “He came to Drexel’s. Many of your men do.“ He nodded but his brilliant blue eyes had darkened. Charlie noticed that most of the food on his plate had been left untouched.  
    “I don’t see many of them chasing you around.“ She nodded. He was good at fencing with words. Her body quaked slightly remembering Drexel’s whip breaking the soft skin on her back. It was the early days, when she still believed and hoped that one day her father would find her or that she would break free. After that punishment, she hadn’t dared even thinking about the possibility of freedom. All this, thanks to silly Jason. She had thought she loved him but the price she had paid had been bitter enough. She didn’t owe him anything. A smirk twisted her lips as she replied.  
    “He lost his virginity with little old me.“ Monroe choked on his drink and coughed a few times. She couldn’t tell whether he was laughing or angry. He recovered quickly but his voice didn’t sound as playful anymore when he asked, “that good?“ Unsure about how to answer this, Charlie chose instead to help herself to some bread. A Drexel girl never traded secrets about customers, except to Drexel himself, it was a matter of survival. Most of the men who came around were dangerous and had no qualms about killing a woman. Between the girls, there had been less restraint as they often shared the same men. Charlie didn’t know how to pursue the matter without talking about what Jason had actually done. It felt childish now and oh so ridiculous. They had planned to elope. She had found a way of getting out of the gates and had even wandered beyond the poppy fields but Jason never came. And Drexel had plenty of time to realize she was missing. She never received any actual explanation until a few years later when Alma passed her his note. He hadn’t been able to make it because of some order his father had given him. He didn’t ask how she was and if there had been any consequences of her attempt. Nothing. Only a few lines about how well he was serving the Republic and that he missed her. Charlie had teared the note into little bit. She was so lost in thought that she didn’t hear Monroe talking to her. She shook her head in confusion and he repeated his question.  
    “How old were you when Drexel found you?“ His tone was crisp and formal.   
    “Thirteen.“ She replied right away. She was so relieved he wasn’t asking more about Jason. “But they trained me first but… I lost track. I’m not sure how old I am. More than Twenty I guess.“ She added casually as if she was talking about a concert she had seen and couldn’t remember when.  
    “Drexel’s a sleazy shit.“ In spite of him, he was appalled but she was smirking.  
    “Look who’s speaking.“  
    “Come on Emily. I’m not Drexel.“ He shrugged.  
    “You’ve got a pretty long list of victims.“  
    “It’s unavoidable when you’re handling a whole republic. Can’t be naive about this.“ She huffed but instead of retorting, she took a spoonful of vegetables. Chewing slowly she eyed him warily as he did the same.   
    “Why do you call me Emily?“  
    “Well if you would just tell me your name…“  
    “I told you“ Her serious and adamant way of speaking made him snicker.  
    “Really? Do you think I’m that stupid?“ She barely raised her eyebrows but he went on, “I get it. I might even agree that it’s none of my business but I’m sure as hell not going to call you Izzy or Isobel.“ She didn’t show any reaction but a smile smile was playing on her lips,“Why Emily?“  
    “Some show about a chick hiding her identity so she could avenge her father.“ Charlotte almost choked but covered it up by rolling her eyes, “Crazy story. You guys really had no imagination back then.“ she bantered casually but she studied him suspiciously. There wasn’t any clear link between her and Charlotte Matheson. She had been careful. Even her friends in the midst of Drexel’s girls didn’t know anything about her former life. But he seemed to be on top of everything. As if the world was in his palm and he only had to think about something to make it happen. Maybe he had seen her as a child but was it enough to recognize her? Monroe noticed a flicker of panic in her face but he couldn’t pinpoint where it was coming from. It was probably just confirming that she was hiding her name and that maybe she had some grudge against someone, possibly himself- He had killed plenty of fathers, mothers, brothers and sisters to have a long line of people wanting to avenge them. Since that night Miles had stood in his bedroom, he had learned that anyone could be capable of betrayal. He abruptly stood up.  
    “I have a new guest to see.“ Charlie’s heart leaped in her chest but she nodded nonchalantly.  
    “So am I supposed to wait for you in all my finery.“  
    “Do whatever the fuck you want.“ He retorted sharply. He left in a flutter of air, leaving her confused and dizzy. Nevertheless,she polished off her plate. No matter how worried she was, her survival instincts weren’t failing her. She needed all her strength for whatever was awaiting her. The woman came to take the food away, changed her plate and rolled in the dessert. It was a luscious pumpkin pie with a side of cream. It reminded her of Maggie. She had barely known her but there had been something between her and her father. She would bring pie for them. It awoke memories of others she had known in the Sylvania Estate. Aaron, the kind and overwhelmed teacher and her dear Danny. She should be fighting for them instead of sleeping with the man bent on destroying them. She shouldn’t be enjoying his company, nor eating his food. She took a forkful of pie and shoved it in her mouth, it wasn’t like she had any choice on the matter. And besides, she argued with herself, it wasn’t like her family had looked for her. It was probably an irrational complaint but she couldn’t get it out of her head. Once she was done, the housekeeper came back to clean up the table. Charlie looked at her carefully. The woman looked kind but, men of power, Charlie had learned this the hard way, knew how to have loyal help. Whatever she said would be repeated to Monroe and maybe this time he would really snap. She was still waiting for his punishment for her day of freedom, it wouldn’t be wise to push it by asking too many question. He hadn’t even addressed it yet. Experience had taught her that the longer it took, the stronger was the blow.  
    “Would you like some coffee miss?“  
    “Nah it’s fine. Thanks.“ Charlotte blushed as the woman took her plate and glass, she felt out of place. The woman looked at her gently.  
    “Are you alright? Would you require a change of clothes?“ Charlotte opened her mouth in surprise but hesitated before answering.  
    “Would it be ok? I do need some clean clothes… And underclothes. My bra is strapless and not the most comfortable.“ A hint of pink graced the woman’s cheeks but she nodded. Charlotte remembered she wasn’t among women who were comfortable talking about sex and private things. She had gotten used to Drexel’s girls’ casual way of life.  
    “Anything specific?“  
     “Well, I wouldn’t mind jeans and shirts. No dress.“To hell with awkwardness, Charlie unbuttoned her shirt half way down and reached inside to untie her bra.  
    “Here. That’s my size.“ The woman nodded.   
    “I will go find something.“ She sounded flustered but Charlie really felt a genuine laughter bubbling inside of her. Bonnie, her roommate, would have loved this story but she would probably never see her again. Her heart pinched. For almost ten years or more, Drexel’s house had been her home and the girls her only family. And here she was catapulted between a mesmerizing madman and the family she had given up on. If he only knew. And if only she could truly cared for them. A normal person would at least try. Charlie shrugged off this feeling and walked back to the bedroom.  
  
  
    The fire had been kindled. Charlie felt boredom choke her. She knew better than rummaging through his things. She was already skating on thin ice. She slid off her jeans to get more comfortable and paced in front of the fire. The shirt was long enough to cover her underwear. As if on cue, she heard a knock on the door and the key turned. Monroe wouldn’t knock. Charlie faced the door, her eyes darting around the room to find something to use in case of attack. A soldier came in and dropped a box at her feet. She hardly had the time to see what it was before the door was locked once more. She kneeled in front of the cardboard box and instantly recognized the leather jacket spilling out. It was the jacket she had been wearing when she was kidnapped. Her hands rummaged in the box and soon realized that it was all from the room she had been sharing at Drexel’s. She found a crumpled note tugged on a fuzzy purple blanket. Wrapping the small blanket around her legs, she sat on the floor and read the note.  
  
 _Hey Izzy!_  
 _D told us that you will be staying with M._  
 _I hope he’s not treating you too bad._  
 _Hollie worked her charm on D and he agreed to let us send your stuff. Didn’t know it would work so well or we would do it for everything._  
 _We will miss you even D. Amelia, Gemma and Sue are saying hello._  
 _Not sure if we can write to each other anymore._  
 _But I will miss you. Be ok? At least you won’t have to see funky Tony anymore._  
 _Bye! I hope we’ll see each other again._  
 _Bonnie_  
  
    Charlie stared at the words for a long time until they became blurry. It was, as if, the whole grief that had been accumulating this day was crashing on her. She wasn’t sad about leaving Drexel’s mansion. She lost everything there and gained only scars. But all in spite of this horrible ordeal, she had built a family of some sort. The girls were always there for her in spite of their own miserable existence. They taught her how to separate her mind from her body; How to handle violent men; How to survive in this hell. And she had lost them. She didn’t want to go back. The thought of Drexel and all those men made her stomach revolt. Her hands stilled inside the box as they reached a row of tattered books. Some clients were kinder than others. A few needed to give her presents to make themselves feel less needy. It didn’t matter how she came to those books but they gave her a haven from which garner strength to keep on going. Now that she was stepping away from her nightmarish life, it was more difficult to escape the disgust and sadness. She had rubbed her eyes over and over again but the tears were still trickling through her eyelashes. She wasn’t free yet and would probably never be. This was who she was, what she had been chiseled into. The thought made her heave but she didn’t let herself sob. Containing tears was more difficult because there was no distraction from her feelings. The door creaked open and she straighten up. She wiped her eyes with a corner of her blanket and plastered a smile on her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay but I've been struggling to write the rest of the story and until I wasn't sure where exactly I was going, it was difficult to edit this chapter. There will be another update very soon as I had to split up a big chapter because it was too much going on for one chapter.
> 
> I find it exceedingly challenging to work on Monroe in this state of his journey. He's still the crazy dictator we all know but having Charlie by his side has to have an effect on his conduct but I don't want her to 'save him' or change him in pure Mary Sue tradition. I hope I'm avoiding this cliché. It's also challenging to work on a Charlie that didn't grow up with Ben and didn't benefit from Miles' sort of training. She isn't Charlie from the show because she didn't have the same upbgringing but I do hope I'm not betraying her spirit.
> 
> And last but not least, I'm so sorry about Jason. He's unfortunately more of a plot device than an actual character for this story. I don't have anything against him but I would hate to turn this into a love triangle sort of thing.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it!


	4. Familiar Ghosts

    Monroe noticed her red rimmed eyes in spite of her smile. He forced his gaze away from her face and took a deep breath. He was himself struggling with the aftermath of his encounter with Ben Matheson. He wasn’t Miles but he evoked memories of simpler days. He had every intention of going straight for a drink but seeing her sitting on the floor with such a forlorn face reminded him of himself a long time ago. He stopped mid-stride and considered her. He didn’t want to care, his frayed nerves were already making his neck hurt and his mood irritable but the brave face she was putting on, made him shake his head. He mumbled a curse as he crouched down. He pushed away the box and pulled her on his lap. It felt oddly comforting to him to feel her warm body against his chest. She didn’t move nor speak as she felt him embrace her.As he tightened his grasp, she shuddered.  
    “It’s okay,“ he whispered.  
    “I’m… It’s fine.“ She pulled away slightly as they faced each other. She rubbed her eyes with her knuckles and tried to explain.  
    “They sent me my stuff.“ He nodded knowingly. Her eyes were still wet and she seem to be struggling to speak.  
    “I just can’t stop crying.“ She sounded embarrassed and wouldn’t meet his eyes. Something unleashed inside of him. He was sent back to his family’s headstones, Shelley’s blood marring his hands, Miles’ gun pointed at him. For an instant, he was breathless but Charlie sniffed and he blinked. If there was someone who knew about grief and how to survive it, it was him. She was now sitting by his side, her arm brushing his. On an impulse, he squeezed her hand. Part of him wanted to lash out on her. He didn’t want to be her caretaker. He didn’t care about her woes. He only wanted her to warm his bed and distract him. But beneath his shield of indifference, he could not escape her pain. Maybe that was what people call humanity? He had no idea how to handle this newly awakened sense. His ability of comforting anyone had gone rusty. His mind kept on going back to Miles standing next to him through each of his heartache. But Miles had been his best friend, brother, while this girl was just… a girl who had unwillingly snaked into his life. He should have let her run. Now, her pain mirrored his own turmoil and loneliness. The violence and fury that had been keeping him on motion today was fading away. The Mathesons and the poison they spewed in his life were on the other side of this door. Monroe’s shoulders relaxed as he peered towards her. She was still struggling to keep her tears at bay but in vain. She had the wild look of a wounded beast. He shook his head.  
    “Okay listen. Tell me something about your childhood.“ His voice sounded raw. His words didn’t have the desired effects as a sob escaped her mouth. He pulled her closer and her face was nestled against his chest. Thinking about his own childhood was like escaping to a happy place but he had forgotten that her own childhood had probably been teared apart. He could feel her tears through his uniform. The collar was scratching his neck but he didn’t dare move. Her body was still and stiff. Girls, women didn’t cry on General Monroe’s uniform unless they were begging for something. This _working_ girl wasn’t even asking him for something. She was just crying. His mind foggily went back to those years that he never thought about.  Memories of Cynthia and Angela nursing heartbreaks or even PMS with tubs of ice cream, movies and lots of hugging and crying. His face was pale and voice was quivering when he tried again.  
    “I had two sisters, growing up. Every time they were sad, they would eat ice cream. Do you want some? I’ve made them keep some ice for my drinks. They can whip up some good…“ She barely noticed the effort behind his words or the eerie kindness in his eyes.  
    “I don’t want fucking food,“ she bit back. Charlie tried to scramble away from him but couldn’t escape his iron hold. Once General Sebastian Monroe had set his mind to something, nobody could undermine him. Even if the task was to dry the tears of a pain in the ass girl.  
    “I know. It won’t change anything. It won’t bring back all that you lost… Your family or..“ He wasn’t looking at her anymore and had that same far off voice of someone unburdening himself to a priest or a therapist. She struggled harder and screeched, “It’s all your fault!“ The moment was gone. He let go of her and gawked at her. She didn’t cower away and her eyes were glowing with anger and remnant of tears. At least, she wasn’t crying anymore.  
    “Seriously? Come on. You can’t blame all the world’s problems on me!“ He sneered to cover his embarrassment at being rejected when he was offering kindness or, as he would prefer to describe it: being weak. Charlie’s lips twitched as she held back the words she wanted to hurl at him: _I’m Charlie Matheson. You have my whole family in custody. It’s your fault!_ But not matter how vulnerable she was feeling, her preservation instinct never failed. Besides, Her family was a surreal concept but he was here. She could smell his manly scent, the starch of his uniform and something like pine trees. She was within his reach and could feel the warmth of his body. He was real and alive. And he had held her when she had been unable to stop her body from shivering and crying. He was real and he was here. Hesitantly, her hand cupped his cheek and he blinked but their gazes locked. Her family was made of ghosts and made up memories. Last night was close enough to let her remember how safe she had felt in his arms. He wasn’t her lover but not a customer either. He was something else altogether. And right now, he could provide the only comfort she really understood. She kissed him. He didn’t kiss her back and she pulled back to look at him.  
    “Don’t think it’s a good idea brat.“  
    “Do I kiss like a brat?“ She wrapped his hands around her clad breasts.  
    “Does this feel like a brat“  
    “Hell, no.“ His lips covered hers as he kissed her back. She kicked her blanket away and ravenously kissed him, her lips straying to his cheeks and jawline. He didn’t resist her onslaught. They were too wrapped up in the moment to bother moving to the bed or even the couch. Their moments weren’t fueled with anger but rather with a sad desperation. When they came back to reality, the fire had died down and the floor was cold.  Charlie reached for her blanket to cover them but Bass hand brushed the scar on her thigh and mumbled, “how?“  
    “How d’you think?“ She retorted.  
    “I’m sorry.“  
    “Not your fault. Happened a long time ago.“ Her hand caressed his right arm as she muttered,“you also have scars.“  
    “But you’re younger.“.  
    “Clearly, you’re a seedy old man,“ she huffed and he laughed. Monroe stood up to gather her up in his arms. Her first reaction was to stiffen.  
    “It’s too cold here. Let’s go to bed.“ She nodded and relaxed. She had to admit it was better than paddling on the freezing floor in her barefoot. At first, they both lay on their side of the bed. They didn’t fall asleep right away.  Charlie was trying to ignore the guilt eating her. This time, she hadn’t been coerced in any way. He hadn’t made any demands. She was the one who had initiated their lovemaking, not because he might want it but because she needed it. Sex had rarely been about her. It was a central part of her life but she had made sure it didn’t mean anything. Jason had been the first and the last with whom she had been almost herself. And yet, now she was out of her depths. Monroe didn’t repulse her but she wasn’t supposed to enjoy him, find peace in his arms or even like him. And yet, she felt contented when she nestled against his chest and he wrapped an arm around her. Monroe was glad to be in a hazy state in which no coherent thoughts strayed. Wanting to comfort her, he had find his own solace. A sleepy voice interrupted his descent into slumber, “are you going to punish me for today?“ His eyelids fluttered but he couldn’t open his eyes. He was exhausted beyond words but he slurred, ‘haven't decided,“ he marked a pause, feeling her head rise, and he continued, “don’t think so.“ She relaxed against him.  
    “Thanks.“  
  
  
    Hurried banging on the door startled them in the death of night.  
    “Yeah!? What is it?“ barked Monroe. Charlie stirred next to him but he ignored her as he jumped out of bed and found some clothes. Major Neville had some urgent reports. He threw a glance over a shoulder and hoped that it wouldn’t spoil his almost good mood. Charlie sleepily huddled into the warmth he had left.  
  
  
    Charlie was sitting on her side of the bed when Monroe came back in.  The candle on the nightstand was barely giving any light. His mind was in full gear and he hardly acknowledged her. He was pacing in front of the fireplace. He had to keep his mind sharp now that Miles was in town. He was probably here for Ben, maybe Rachel or him? He felt her gaze burning his back.  
    “Why are you up?“ he blurted.  
    “I’m starving. I think I was dreaming about ice cream and fries.“ He had a hard time making sense of her words.He swiftly turned around with a face that betrayed his confusion. All he could think about was Miles, war, Miles, finding power and Miles. And this girl was  sharing her mundane preoccupation.  
    “You’re hungry? At this time?“ His eyebrows were raised and a smile was tugging on his lips. She nodded vigorously, “you’ve never heard of a midnight feast?“ He chuckled, shaking his head at the absurdity of having such a conversation after Neville’s dramatic performance. The man had been trying to pressure him to leave his city and she was talking about food with such relish. From his vantage point, he considered the girl sitting in his bed, wrapped only with a sheet and her long golden hair.  
    “It’s actually a little before dawn. What are you anyway… A hobbit?“ She crossed her arms in front of her, making the sheet dip and offer an enticing view of her cleavage. She was pouting slightly and her face was a mask of confusion, the one she had every time he made a pop culture reference. But she suddenly looked sharply at him, “hobbits? Aren’t those some fat, lazy and small creatures from a fairytale?“ She vaguely remembered a story Aaron, her childhood school teacher, had told them. She rolled her eyes when she saw Monroe’s surprise.  
    “I don’t remember TV but I do know how to read. Anyways, d’you think there’s some food left in the dining room?“ She stood up, letting the sheet slouch back on the bed. He gaped at her in the semi darkness. Charlie hardly noticed the effect she was having on him, her stomach was grumbling. She fished out the shirt she had been wearing the previous day and buttoned it up. Monroe jammed his hands in his pockets and took a deep breath,“no. I don’t like having food laying around. But we can stop by the kitchen.“ She looked up with excitement in her eyes,“does that mean I can have a tour of the mansion or whatever this is?“ He was mesmerized by her bubbly face. She looked genuinely glad to leave the room. He had grown so blasé about everything, even death hardly made him flinch. But she was excited about going to the kitchens. He couldn’t even tell if he had ever been there. It was difficult to coincide her with the girl crying in his arms a few hours ago and even harder to compare her to Tom Neville’s grim glare.  
    “That depends on whether you’re planning another escape.“  
    “Not knowing the lay of the land didn’t stop me before.“ He nodded. His eyes found hers and she nodded too as if she was acknowledging a truce between them. The candlestick Charlie was holding was making her face glow and he noticed that her face looked less hollowed than the first time he had beheld her. He noticed that she was only wearing his old shirt and he cocked his head.  
    “You call that dressed?“  
    “What? Not everyone wants to look like a tight assed General.“ Her voice was confident but she still darted a worried look in his direction. He shrugged. Truth be told, she looked ravishing with this shirt and he couldn’t wait to get her out of it. He just hoped they wouldn’t run into too many of his men.  
    “Okay let’s go Billy the Kid.“ Charlie was relieved to get out of the room. They may be only going to the kitchens but it made her feel less like a prisoner. Monroe was leading the way and she was scrutinizing the back of his head. She liked his curly hair. It made her wonder about how he looked as a child: all twinkly blue eyes and cherubim curls. And yet, the way he held his head and his wide shoulders demonstrated that he was far from being angelic and soft. She yawned.  
    “This is strange,“ muttered Monroe. His hand found the handle of his sword. He turned to talk to her but suddenly three silhouettes came up from the stairs at their right. Charlie almost dropped the candlestick as she was pushed behind Monroe. Her hunger twisted into nausea when she recognized the faces in the shadows. It was a vision she had unwillingly dreamt so much about: Her father standing tall with a grown Danny next to him, armed to the teeth. There was another man in front of her father but all she could see was the horror in her family’s face.  
    “Charlie!?“ She hardly recognized Danny’s voice. She was speechless and her arm was still snaked around Monroe’s. She saw her father eyes taking her in and she was conscious of her state of undress that had previously seemed unimportant. She shrunk behind Monroe. He hadn’t budged. She wasn’t even sure he had heard Danny, his head was turned towards the other man. She guessed that it was the infamous Uncle Miles. She let go off Monroe as she backed against the wall, hoping she would disappear.  
    “Stealing from me again Miles? I was expecting you to come in full glory. Not a pathetic little attempt like this.“ He drew his sword. The tone of his voice reminded Charlie of their conversations in the dark. But whatever vulnerability he must have been feeling was gone when he called for his men. Charlie’s hand was cramped around the candlestick but everything was going so fast, she could hardly see. Miles was pulling Ben towards the other end of the corridor but both father and son weren't moving.  
    “Come on! We’ve got to go!“  
    “No. This is Charlie!“ Miles hadn’t paid any attention to the girl standing behind Monroe. He knew his former best friend well enough to know he was rarely without a bedfellow. They could hear people rushing towards them but the Matheson clan was frozen. Miles hand was anchoring Ben to his side but he watched in alarm as Danny pushed forward.The boy reached for his sister without sparing a glance to Monroe.  
    “Charlie. Come with us!“ They may have been inches away but Charlie felt Monroe stiffen. he must have finally realized what was happening. Evidently, Miles Matheson was enough to scramble his sharp wits. Overwhelmed, Charlie acted on instinct. She pushed away Danny. He stumbled back in surprise and Monroe’s men filled the hallway. She saw her father and uncle disappear as a group of men chased them. Danny was laying on the floor while someone was handcuffing him. Monroe turned around and she was engulfed in the fury in his blue eyes.  
    “Charlie? Charlotte Matheson?“ he thundered. She nodded. He knew her name, he knew everything. She was stripped away from her last shroud of protection. She clenched her teeth and squared her shoulders.  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry! This is a short chapter but you must agree that our favourite characters have been through a lot and all that within a few hours. As you can see, the almost easy dynamic between Monroe and Charlie will shatter now that he knows who she truly is. We all remember his rampant paranoia but shhh I'm not going to write the next chapter on this note! Once more, I found it difficult to make Monroe open up without overdoing it. He's such an elusive character but so emotional and closed up. I think what made him react this way was because he recognized her pain. It's easier for this AU Charlotte to find comfort with him (but not that easy) because she hasn't seen him through Miles' lense or the rebellion. She had no doubt about his darkness but she is also convinced it's a part of all human beings. Anyways, hopefully if I've done my job correctly, this note wouldn't be needed.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it. Thank you for taking the time for commenting the story here or on Tumblr. It's really helpful and encouraging. Not sure I would last long without your support. Thank you! Love this fandom!


	5. Of monsters and heroes

    Monroe literally dragged Charlie through the corridors. She was stumbling and even hit her toe against the corner of a wall. She barely felt the pain as her mind was still hazy after the shock of seeing her family. They hadn’t seem real. How did her father’s face become so lined? And Danny? This wasn’t the boy she had left behind. Two strangers, actually three counting the infamous Miles, calling her Charlie and breaking her last shield. She should have run with them instead of getting her brother captured. But the truth was that she couldn’t. Safety was in what and whom she knew. Better the devil you know than whispers of her past. She shuddered more at her own thoughts than the fingers digging into her arm. As she staggered in front of the door, she turned her gaze towards him but his face was a mask of cold fury. She didn’t know him either.  
  
    He shoved her inside the bedroom and slammed the door behind him. His hand was crushing her wrist and she recognized the almost bestial glint in his eyes. There was no doubt that she was beyond pleading or playing. She was pushed against the wall and he was leaning over her, their noses were almost touching, as he stared into her terrified eyes. This was the man who had built a whole Republic from the ashes of his life; this was the man who had no qualms about killing.   
    “I knew Miles was capable of much but this…“ His voice was soft and she could feel his breath on her face. “This goes beyond anything I could imagine.“  She mustered whatever courage was left to explain.  
    “Miles? I didn’t even know we were related.“ His grip was making her wince, his nostrils were flared and she was struggling to keep her eyes on his face.  
    “I could have believed you but you see… You’ve been lying to me since the beginning.“ He sounded almost rational but his jaw was set and his eyes offered no escape.  
    “Can you blame me?“ She spat back but it only made him move closer, his hard chest against hers.  
    “I don’t tolerate liars.“ He carefully articulated each word, his deadly gaze making her breath hitch. He wasn’t human anymore. She couldn’t move her numb legs to kick him and her arms were pinned by his weight. But Charlie knew about survival, her weaknesses and strengths. She wouldn’t go down without a fight. She leaned forward and kissed him hard. He kissed her back and bit her bottom lip, drawing blood. Stunned, she pulled back, her head hitting the wall in her haste.   
    “Thought you could fuck this away? Doesn’t surprise me. This is what you do best.“ He whispered against her lips. The words stung more than his bite. A cruel glint in his painfully blue eyes made Charlie look away. She didn’t have time to process his contempt as his mouth crashed over hers again. His right hand slipped from her shoulder to rip open the shirt. The buttons fell to her feet as his hand grasped her breast, making her jump. She kissed him back, her body yielding to his, and her free hand grasping his curls. He suddenly stepped back, making her stumble. She was about to mutter a complaint but he cut her off.  
    “Save it.“ Breathing heavily, he turned his back and stuck his head outside the door. He bellowed an order and two men marched in to escort her out. She looked over her shoulder to seek his gaze but he was leaning against the wall with his head bent. He straightened up, and their eyes met in a flash as she heard him saying, “See you Charlotte,“ in the coldest of tones.  
     Her heart was beating fast and she was struggling to get a breath out. One moment he was about to ravish her and the next he was sending her to her death. She wanted to ask the soldiers what was happening but her throat was too dry. They stopped in front of a thick door with a barred opening. She was shoved into the dark room. Danny was sitting on the dirty floor. He looked up and Charlie was suddenly terribly aware of her state: hair askew, swollen bloody lip and dishevelled clothes. The two lanterns burning on either sides of the room were providing too much lighting for her taste.  
    “Hey.“ He got up and considered her quietly for a few minutes. She was shivering but keeping her teeth from chattering. She had seen worst but she hadn’t pictured being reunited with her brother like this.  
    “Charlie, is it really you?“ She smirked.  
    “Yeah it’s me. Sorry about earlier I just… I’m sorry.“ Danny didn’t hesitate to hug her tightly, making her cringe and pull away. The pain and confusion in his eyes made her lower her eyes. She couldn’t hug her brother when she could still smell Monroe on herself and could still taste him on her lips.  
    “Charlie? What happened? If you hadn’t pushed me, we would be out of here with Dad and Miles.“ She offered her brother another crooked smile but her eyes looked tired and her face worn.  
    “I’m sorry Danny.. I wasn’t sure. I thought you weren’t real,“ her voice trembled slightly as she continued, “I don’t know you.“ He opened his mouth to contradict her but she shook her head and added, “anymore.“ She looked at her brother's face, trying to grasp what he might be thinking and wondering how on earth he could look so young. Nobody kept an innocent hue in Drexel’s world nor in Monroe’s. And yet, Danny looked like a little boy. She took his hand and squeezed it.   
    “We’re your family. I don’t know what Monroe told you but.. Charlie! It’s all a lie.“ She shrugged, “he didn’t tell me much about you guys. Actually, I haven’t been here long.“ She sat down on the cot, keeping her legs close and cocked her head towards her brother. Danny sat next to her and shrugged, “whatever Charlie. Miles and dad will get us out soon enough.“ In spite of the dire circumstances, she laughed.  
    “Someone’s got a hero worship going on?“ Her remark earned her a smile from her baby brother. It felt good to be with someone who seem to truly care for her without any transaction attached or power struggle. She had been wondering about how she was supposed to act with Danny or anyone from the family but maybe it was easier than she thought. Maybe she could simply let her guards down?  
    “How did you end up here? Where have you been all those years?“ She sighed. Nothing would ever be easy for her. Charlie peered once more at his face but it was too smooth and clear. He might have barged in here with guns and swords but he probably didn’t know much about life. She knew how safe and gentle was life in the Sylvania Estate. She shook her head.  
    “It’s a long story. But I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time now. I don’t need anyone to get me out of here.“ Danny’s eyes grew wide but with a shrug, she kept on talking, “I could leave if I wanted to.“ She bit her tongue. It was all coming out wrong but it was too late, the damage was done.  
    “You and Monroe?“ She shrugged again. She couldn’t decide whether it was better to let him believe they were lovers or that he had bought her. His eyes were glistening in the candle light and she could see that the tenor of their conversation was making him struggle with his breathing. And if there was something she had never forgotten, it was those nights spent trying to make sure he was still breathing. Yet, he had survived without her. Maybe she hadn’t been so essential for his survival, after all.  
    “You’ve grown up Danny.“   
    “Didn’t have any choice.“  Danny shuffled to his feet and paced in the small cell. He was avoiding her gaze and keeping his attention on the door.   
    “Miles will get us. We just have to find an opening,“ he added.  
    “You’re repeating yourself. What makes you think I want to leave?“ Danny’s mouth was open in shock and he was at loss for a few minutes. Charlie licked her bruised lip cursing herself for speaking up. She was just irritated that he thought she would want to hop back in the family wagon just because they were related. She had waited for them to find her for far too long. It didn’t matter how irrational it was to expect to be saved when they had no idea where she was but she felt betrayed. Her father had been missing for a month maybe before Danny had found the cavalry and marched in. But what about her? She tried to sound less harsh when she spoke again.  
    “I’m sorry Danny. It’s so confusing,“  He sat next to her and took her hand.  
    “Hey, I’m here. I’m your brother, Danny. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten about Old Jack the world traveller.“ She smiled at the mention of that story they had made up. Together, they had dreamt of all those places to discover. She would have taken him with her but, that infamous day, they had fought about who got to read a comic book first. Aaron had given it to her but both her father and Maggie, who had no business intervening, had decided Danny would be the first. Charlie had stormed out of the camp within the hour. At that time, in her flash of anger, it had seem quite reasonable to punish them all by going for an adventure without them. She blinked at the memory and forced herself to stay focused.  
    “That’s what got me in trouble.“ She sniffed and tightened her hold on his hand.  
    “Charlie, we tried looking for you. Dad scoured the area but after some time we had to accept that you were gone. We didn’t know Monroe had gotten you or we would have come sooner. I can’t imagine what he’s done to you.“ She pulled her hand away from his and rubbed her eyes. After a decade without tears, she had been crying a lot these last few days.  
    “He didn’t do anything to me. Actually,“ and she peered into her brother’s eyes before continuing, “he saved my life.“ He shook his head in disbelief and she crossed her arms defensively over her barely covered breast. Monroe wasn’t an angel but all men had demons in their eyes. In spite of their strange relationship, she did feel a sense of loyalty to him. He had been fair with her. She still couldn’t figure out why he had gotten her out of Drexel’s grasp. Men with infinite power perhaps needed to own everything. She didn’t entertain any hopes that she was anything but entertainment to him. In return, she owed him for getting her out of hell and not killing her. But the truce was probably over now that he knew she was a Matheson. She studied her brother’s back as she tried to make sense of the feeling of frustration that was growing in her. Monroe hadn’t believe her. For the life of her, she couldn’t understand why it made her so uneasy. Too many feelings were flowing in her veins. Thankfully, Danny interrupted her thoughts by scrambling away from the door.  
    “Someone’s coming.“ Both siblings stood next to each other with their back towards the wall. Acting on instinct, Charlie had grabbed on of the lanterns. But she barely had time to make a move when the door opened. A guard simply pushed a pile of clothes inside and locked the door again. Charlie recognized her old leather jacket and the newly purchased boots but that was it. The choice of jeans and tank top with underclothes neatly tucked between them made her realize that it was probably the supplies she had requested to the housekeeper. She starred at the clothes for a few minutes before making sense of the situation. One thought was on a loop in her mind: Monroe had allowed this. Calmly, she grabbed the clothes.  
    “Can you turn around?“ Charlie surprised herself with this new show of modesty. He simply nodded and obliged. She eagerly stripped off the shirt, slipped on the underpants and bra. The jeans and olive green tank top were a bit loose but it was better fitting than Monroe’s clothes. She would have liked to wash away the grim and blood but it would be too much to ask. The crispy clean clothes felt so good on her skin. She looked down at her fully clothes body and felt more human but she remembered her scarred shoulders and rather than answering Danny’s questions, she shrugged on Monroe’s old shirt. It was too stuffy for the jacket.  
    “All set.“ Danny turned around and looked equally relieved to see her clothed.   
    “I don’t get why Monroe’s sending you all this stuff. He’s…“  
    “… Not that bad?“ Danny shook his head in disagreement but Charlie went on, “I mean… I don’t see you having any hard time trusting Uncle Miles.“ He stared at her in bewilderment and she rolled her eyes. If it wasn’t for their location and the subject of their discussion, they could be years ago lost in their usually sibling quarrel.   
    “Uncle Miles isn’t like him. He hasn’t..“  
    “Danny, you can’t be that naive! He’s the damn Butcher of Baltimore!“ She hadn’t planned on defending Monroe’s honor. Her own knee-jerk reaction was upsetting her. She shouldn’t care for him like this. They weren’t lovers or even friends. He was her customer, her owner and that was it. She shouldn’t care about him sending her clothes nor feel guilty for betraying him. She wasn’t allowed to feel anything. She was a mere shadow from the underworld. No amount of time in the luxury of the General's quarters nor by her brother’s side could change her place. She clenched her teeth and closed her eyes, willing herself to stop being so emotional. The only way she had found to survive Drexel’s world was to stop feeling. It was probably time to trust this primal instinct.  
     “What happened to you Charlie?“ Danny’s voice betrayed his concern but it only grated her further, “Forget it.“   
  
    They both sat in sullen silence until the door was opened again. A breath of fresh air swept in the humid cell. One guard stood by the door as the other one led someone else inside. Both siblings stared with amazement as a woman that looked like their long deceased mother walked in. Charlie’s face didn’t show any emotion while Danny gasped and had to hold his sister’s arm. His sister’s composure made him turn his head toward his sister who was still sitting next to him.  
    “You knew!?“  
    “Not really but I heard rumours.“  
    “Danny, Charlie… Is it you?“ Rachel fell to her knees in front of her children. She hugged them against her heart and even Charlie had tears in her eyes. She grasped her mother and burrowed her nose in her hair but she quickly pulled back. It was too good to be true and it couldn’t last. Rachel pulled back and looked at both their faces. She noticed right away each bruise and cut but her gaze lingered longer on Charlie’s face.  
    “Your dad told me you were around Danny but you Charlie? He said you have been missing for a long time.“ Charlie nodded with tears streaming on her cheek. She should have looked for her mother the moment she had heard about her being in the vicinity. It didn’t matter that Rachel had abandoned them, she was still her mother. Danny spoke before Charlie could explain anything and she squeeze gratefully his hand.  
    “Mom. We all thought you were dead. Miles didn’t say anything about you being around. We came for dad.“ Rachel looked up at her children with guilt and aguish. She began to explain why she was here and, both of them, hand in hand, listened to her quietly. But as Rachel whispered about how she wanted to kill Monroe, something clicked in Charlie’s mind. She remembered the previous days spent with Monroe and how strung he had been, how broken. She looked at her feet, avoiding her mother’s gaze as she tried to keep her emotions in check. This was her mother, her mom. He was nobody, someone who had been killing other people and keeping her locked up. And someone who had had sisters who liked ice cream.  She jumped out of her seat.  
    “Okay. You need to stop talking. It’s too much.“ She took a deep breath but another tear trickled on the side of her face. She was hoping Danny was looking equally distraught. The warmth of her mother’s embrace had made her feel even more raw. Her attempt at building back the walls that had always protected her, had failed.Years of murky mundanity and then, out of the blue, her life didn’t make sense anymore. What had been lost forever was found but it didn’t feel like it was supposed to.  
    “All of you need to stop talking. None of this makes sense.“ She sat on the edge of the cot with her back towards them as she cradled her head in her hands. The pieces of the puzzle were sliding elegantly in their right place. Monroe had her whole family under his palm, he was toying with them to get whatever he wanted. And yet, she still couldn’t bear the idea of her mother trying to kill him. Because he wasn’t the only monster. These last few minutes had made Charlie realize that her parents were responsible for the blackout. Maybe she should play the game of picking who was the worst of them all. The Mathesons and Monroe were both the source of all woes. She wished for a drink or even something harder to stop the room from spinning.  
    “She’s right mom. We have to find a way of getting out.“ Rachel nodded and looked around her and noticed an air shaft. She was soon trying to unscrew it with her bare fingers. Charlie was regarding her quietly while Danny was keeping an eye out. They weren’t speaking until Rachel finally asked.  
    “Charlie. What happened?“ She looked around to see if her daughter had heard her and continued, “Were you here? I’m surprised Monroe didn’t use you to keep me in line.“ Charlie wet her lips and tasted her own blood. Her mother turned back to the task at hand.  
    “Monroe didn’t capture me. Actually, he had no idea who I were. I’m…“ Her voice was raspy, “he… he saved me from something very bad.“  She couldn’t say it but nor could she put the blame on him. Rachel stopped to look at her and make sense of what she was saying. Her blue eyes were filled with suspicion.  
    “I don’t understand. Charlie, you can tell me… Did he hurt you?“ Charlie shook her head and once more, Danny jumped in.  
    “I think we should hurry up. Miles might show up any time to spring us out.“ Rachel’s face fell and her attention diverted to her other child.  
    “Miles is here?“  
    “Of course he is. Like I said earlier, he helped me to spring dad out and then we saw Charlie and well, I got distracted. But he’s coming.“ Rachel’s eyes were wide and mouth agape. But there wasn’t much time as they heard feet shoveling near their cell and torch lights. Charlie crossed her fingers, hoping it wasn’t Monroe. How on earth would she explain her connection with him when her mother was already so wired about Miles? She didn’t recognize the man walking in but he eyed her with a knowing gaze. He was clearly not the type to be trifle with. His words may have outraged Rachel or scared Danny but his leering glance just made Charlie roll her eyes. They were dragged out of their cells, taken out of the residence in some sort of carriage. There were no windows and Danny was having a hard time breathing, both women were trying to calm him down.  
    When they arrived, it was so dark that Charlie had a hard time trying to figure out what building they were entering. It looked both so futuristic yet far too ancient.  
    “It’s the power plant. I’ve been in and out of here.“ Her mother whispered.  
    “We heard about it. Miles and dad will find it.“ Danny was adamant but Charlie snorted. If it had been normal circumstances, she would have told him exactly how many times he had repeated this magical sentence. But she knew that this was the hope he was clinging too. It was endearing that he still believed and she had no desire to take it away from him. It must be good to trust someone with so much conviction. She didn’t know Miles but from what she had heard between Monroe and her mother, he was not to be trusted. And her father? His passive face when he had recognized her had made her blood bitter. Her father had never been the fighter, it was her mother that made sure they survived until she left them.  
   
    They were were ushered in a big room, full of candles and strange devices. Charlie guessed that those machines probably served a purpose before the blackout. They were left alone for a few minutes but none of them moved. Knowing Monroe, he had probably a dozen men guarding the room. Charlie was even wondering if there was a point in running away. Danger was everywhere, just like darkness. Danny and her mother wanted to get out but she didn’t know where to go. Their little rebellion didn’t make sense to her. Why fight against the Republic when evil was actually in all human beings? What mattered was staying safe. The world would save itself.  
  
    The door opened and Monroe stepped in and moved closer to them in a few smooth steps.  
Her whole body tingled in anticipation and fear. She kept her face turned towards her brother’s. Danny’s eyes narrowed as he glanced at the General. He still couldn’t make sense of what this man had over his sister but it was probably something terrible. He wished for his uncle agility or knowledge in combat. Monroe appraised them with the hint of a smirk. His eyes paused on Charlie.  
    “Hello Charlotte. It’s nice to finally meet you. The real you. At least I don’t need to introduce myself.“ She ignored her brother’s shuffling or her mother’s death stare, took and him and reply in an even tone.  
    “Likewise.“  
    “What have you done to my children? To Charlie?“ screeched Rachel. She was facing Monroe without showing any ounce of fear. It made Charlie smile in spite of the danger. So this was where she had gotten her guts and this resilience that pushed her through those dark years. Monroe didn’t answer but instead brought the conversation back to something he called an amplifier. Charlie shifted her weight from one foot to the other. It wouldn’t take long until her mother figured it all out. But her concerns moved from her own survival to the implication of Monroe having electricity. In their days together, he had rarely spoken about how he was handling the Republic. There wasn’t any reason to do so. Their interaction had one sole purpose. She was having a hard time understanding why her mother was so adamant. Electricity would change the lives of so many. Warm clean water, lights and so many things that would make life more bearable. But she soon realized that the use of this power would be specific as Monroe explained to them what the pendants could do.  
    “Mom, don’t do it.“ Danny gaped at his mother and enjoined her not to help him. Charlie heard the other man preparing his gun and her gaze wandered to Monroe’s face but he was wearing his general mask. Parts of her wanted to tell Danny to let it go. Did it really matter in the grand scheme of things? But she knew it did matter. She felt guilty for being so hellbent on her own survival while her brother was so courageously pleading with their mother. The man named Strausser was pointing his gun on them, asking Rachel to choose between her children. Charlie’s gaze wasn’t on them, instead, she was seeking Monroe’s. They locked eyes and she remembered that night he almost killed her. She stepped in front of Danny. Her thoughts on her Danny’s idealistic beliefs were maybe conflicted but he was still her little brother.  
    “Pick me.“ She could hear Rachel and Danny yelling in the distance but her eyes were fixed on the barrel. She didn’t want to be a martyr for their cause. Danny couldn’t know death as well as she did; he couldn’t desire it as much as she did. Better her than him.  
    “It’s okay mom. Don’t worry.“ Her voice was calm, almost serene. Monroe’s lips moved but it was Rachel who yelled at them to stop and agreeing to do it. Charlie’s breath itched and Danny looked at his feet in defeat. His face was flushed in anger at himself and his mother or maybe shame?  
    “Take the boy to the cell and if she so much as move funny… Kill him.“  
Rachel’s numb face sharpen in worry as her gaze went from Charlie to Monroe.  Her voice betrayed her fears, “what about Charlie?“   
    “Don’t worry Rachel. Your daughter knows how to take care of herself.“   
    “It’s ok mom,“ mumbled Charlie.  
Monroe walked briskly out of the room and Charlie followed him without any incentive. They were barely outside when she barked, “what the hell are you doing?“  
    “You can’t speak like to me Charlotte. Are you going to teach me how to lead a Republic? Didn’t know Drexel sent you to school.“ They had stepped in a large room, filled with chairs and a big presentation board. Charlie didn’t react at his jab but instead focused on her family.  
    “Why didn’t I get to go with Danny?“ The contorted lines of his face were relaxing slightly as he looked at his hands. He ignored her question as his gazed shifted to something beyond over her head.  
    “I need to know the truth,“ his voice was trembling slightly as he continued, “was this Miles’ grand plan?“ She shook her head.  
    “I told you. I had no idea we were related and nobody in their right mind would choose to work for Drexel.“ The weariness in her voice made him shift his gaze to her. They looked at each other, scrutinizing each other’s features to catch a glimpse of what the other one was thinking.  
    “You threatened my family.“ Charlie was the first one to speak.  He raised his hands.  
    “I didn’t have any choice. If only Rachel, your mother, would…“  
    “They are right, aren’t they? You want to kill more people.“ Her tone was accusing but it merely made him snicker, “clueless Charlotte, this is the only way to keep the Republic safe.“ She huffed.  
    “Seriously? Is this how it worked before the Blackout.“  
    “Actually, it wasn’t so different. Only, they did it with more useless speeches and agreements.“  
Charlie paced in front of him. So much had happened in a few days and hours. One moment she was a sad orphan Annie and the other, she was caught up in the middle of a highly political arm wrestling. Her eyes darted to his smug face and she wanted to struck him but the thought of her family dragging her away into a war that felt pointless made her blood turn cold. She stopped in front of him. He was leaning against a desk with feigned patience but his eyes were following her every move. She considered him for a few minutes and he didn’t interrupt her musings. It almost felt familiar to share a few moments of silence together. But Charlie’s thoughts were far from any familiar ground. She didn’t have the luxury to wonder about her brother’s idealistic goal, nor about who was the true villain of the story. It would have to wait. Right now, she had this man in front of her And she couldn’t decide whether she should hate him or care.  
    “What’s going to happen?“ she burst out.  
    “Your mother is going to build the amplifier for my choppers. And I’m going to crush the rebellion.“ He enunciated each word as if she was a simpleton. It made her flush.  
    “I mean, About this.“ He sighed. Even before the blackout he hadn't care about the ‘what are we’ conversation. He considered her. She was a Matheson, alright. She was a spitting image of Rachel and there was something that reminded him of Miles in the way she faced him fearlessly. He had always wondered about Charlotte Matheson’s real father but now that she was standing in front of him, after all that they had done together, he’d rather not think about it. But he couldn’t coincide her with that toddler Miles had showed him videos of. The girl who had clung to him and seduced him in spite of herself wasn’t a Matheson. It had all been an illusion. Not that it mattered right now since he had more pressing matters at hand.  
    “What do you want me to say? We aren’t an item, Charlotte. You are a Matheson. Yes we’ve… fucked. But isn’t this routine for you?“ Her eyes were ablaze and for a split second, she forgot her training and the power he wielded, as she raised her fist to punch him. He caught her hand mid-air.  
“That’s enough Charlotte.“ As she twisted her hand out of his, she almost missed the time when he kept calling her Emily. The full form of her name made her hair raise. And yet her shoulders were straighter and her chin higher. It felt like she was really breathing for the first time since her life took a wrong turn. Oh she knew she shouldn’t have done this. There was just a thin line between this man and the one who had threatened her mother. He took hold of her wrists but she merely eyed him without even struggling.  
    “I should have known you were a Matheson with this attitude of yours.“ His eyes were ablaze and yet he couldn’t help but admire her fighting spirit. Before the reveal, he had sometimes seen flickers of her true nature but she was unfolding before his very eyes.  
    “If you don’t give a damn about me, just let me go.“ He shook his head with a thoughtful gaze.  
    “I need leverage.“  
    “You’ve got Danny. Why are you still keeping me here?“ Her voice sounded almost hopeful. He snorted.  
    “I’m sorry you’re having some kind of Stockholm Syndrome. But It’s time for you to go find your brother. I don’t have time for this.“ She looked hurt. He looked away. They had a moment, one night, when their brokenness had found a way to mend itself. But he wasn’t her glue and he didn’t need to be repaired. He needed to be himself and be the man the Republic needed. Charlie flushed in embarrassment at her own weakness. Maybe Drexel had been right: she had been moulded for one sole purpose and would never be normal again.  
  
    She was led through the building to another cell. Danny hugged her in relief as soon as the door was locked behind her but she didn’t return the embrace. Surprised, he looked at her and noticed that her eyes seemed sunken and hollow but he didn’t dare comment.  
    “Are you sure Uncle Miles is going to show up?“  Her voice was nonchalant but she was massaging the tension away from her nape. Her confrontation with Monroe had left her even more confused with herself and those around her. There was too much happening around her and she needed something to hold. It appalled her that Monroe was the only familiar figure in this chaos and that some part of her wanted to hold on to him. She repeated her question to Danny and tried to focus on her brother. He nodded and proceeded to explain their long journey to find their father. He told her about Maggie, Aaron and Nora. He talked for a long time and she could almost understand his view on the Republic and feel proud of him. He finally halted and looked at her with an intense gaze. He looked hesitant before he started to speak again.  
    “I think something pretty horrific happened to you and you don’t want to tell us but Charlie they are going to push until you do. If you tell me, I can try to keep them from prying.“ She rubbed her face with the palms of her hand and offered him a broken smile, her whole face lighting up. It was sweet of him to stick up for her, for warning her and opening his arms. She patted his shoulder.  
    “It’s complicated Danny. But I guess you deserve an answer.“ She sat on the floor, drawing her knees to her chest and circling them with her arms. Danny followed her suit. His eyes were still so grey and full of goodness but she had to open Pandora’s box. And she knew that nothing would ever be the same.  
    “There isn’t any pretty way of saying it so I’m just going to say it. You just have to promise me something.“ She looked at his young face. He had no idea how dark the world could be. His journey had been hard but it was filled with some kind of nobility. He nodded at her request.  
    “Don’t feel sorry for me and you can’t tell mom and dad.“   
    “I’m not sure…“  
    “Danny, please.“ He nodded in agreement.  
    “I left the estate because I wanted to have a day trip and see something else. I could’t bear dad and how he was with Maggie, pretending that she was like our mom. I just needed out. I didn’t think… I would get caught so easily.“ She paused as she recalled how she had told the same story to Monroe. Telling him had made it easier for her to open up to her brother.  “Have you heard of Drexel?“  
“We passed through there.“  
“How? When?“ It must have been after she left for Monroe’s.  
Danny eyes narrowed into slits and darkened.  
“No Charlie. Don’t tell me it’s…“  
She nodded slowly, her eyes bloodshot but dry.  
    “I’ve been there ever since that day I left the estate.“ Danny shook his head and tried to get a hold of her hand but she shuffled away. Instead, she folded both hands together and her nails dug into her soft skin.  
    “Monroe got me out.“ Her voice was raw as her throat was burning.  
    “Why?“  
    “It’s complicated. He didn’t know who I was and things have been easier for me… Well, until he found out. Danny, he’s not that bad. I guess he’s like Uncle Miles.“ She added hesitantly.  
Danny’s face flushed and he swiftly shook his head.  
    “Can’t compare them.“ His stubborn expression filled Charlie with a typical sibling annoyance. She pursed her lips before contradicting him.  
    “Why not? They built the Republic together. Danny, you can’t say that Miles is a hero without giving some redeeming qualities to Monroe.“ She shook her head slightly at her own words. She didn’t speak again. Danny hadn’t turn away but was equally quiet. For as long as he had known, General Monroe had been the darkest of monsters who had made the world a terrible place. He had been disturbed when they had found out that Miles had been part of the Republic and yet.. It just didn’t sound right to put both men on the same level. Monroe was the tyrant and Miles the one who would save them all from the General. His head suddenly snapped up and blood drained from his face.  
    “Did you... Did you sleep with him?“  
    “What.. Danny! You can’t ask this!“ She stood up and faced the wall. She heard him shuffle and throw up. She would have done the same but throwing up or crying would imply that she had something left to hurl out. There was only emptiness and bewilderment. They kept their back at each other and kept their peace. Charlie was once more curled up around her knees. Danny’s ragged breathing brought back memories of sharing the same bedroom. She would often tell him stories to distract him. There were always monsters lurking in the dark but, the heroes she made up, always found a way of saving the day. She wished that she still believed in noble heroes and evil villains with the same fervour as her brother. But she couldn't have this relief.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading my story. As always, your support both here and on Tumblr has really been helpful.
> 
> I apologise for taking so much time publishing this chapter but I had a hard time editing this chapter because of all the dialogues and how I wanted to convey the subtleties and intricacies of Charlie's relationship with her family and Monroe. 
> 
> I also wanted to stay true to what she went through as one of Drexel's girl. Her experience has affected her ability to connect with people. Reconnecting with your family after having live through such an ordeal isn't easy. That doesn't mean that she's choosing Monroe over them. It's just easier to connect with him than them. But, as you can see, she's doing her best. 
> 
> Danny's journey cannot be like Charlie's in the show as they have different characters. Last but not least, bear in mind that Charlie doesn't know Miles and from her point of view, he's no different than Monroe. In the show, most of the main protagonists seldom see things from Monroe's side. Maybe this time, he has someone on his side?
> 
> Thank you so much for taking the time to read my chapter and I hope you enjoyed it.


	6. Weapon of Mass Destruction

    Hours later, Charlie was working on the vent just liker her mother had did in their previous cell. Danny had repeated incessantly that Miles would come and finally, Charlie had taken pity on him and kept her snarky remarks to herself. She didn’t have the heart to speak anyways. Her thoughts kept on going back to Monroe’s rebuttal of any explanations she had tried to give. She felt embarrassed to have expected any leniency. There was something stony and far too dark in his soul. Next to him, Danny was a gush of fresh pure water. Bickering with him had awoken that forgotten sense of kinship. They may have lost years but he was still her brother. Family was all that mattered or, at least, should have. There was too much fury in her. She was angry at her father, her mother and even Danny but she was also angry at the world. Maybe being part of their rebellion would satisfy her rage. Their cause didn’t need to have a meaning. She may feel estranged in their midst but they were still welcoming her with open arms. As she worked in silence, Danny was standing by the door.  He was on edge. It seemed that he couldn’t find any common ground with his sister. There was something in her brusque manner and dark outlook of the world that reminded him of Miles. Just like her uncle, she hardly spoke but he was pretty sure it wasn’t because she didn’t have anything to say. It was strange to think that his sister who was hardly a few years older could have a dark past like his uncle and those unfortunate souls he had met in his long journey. He was musing about a subject that might make Charlie laugh but she had finally managed to unscrew the grill covering the vent and he could hear shuffling coming from the corridor.  
    “Someone’s coming.“ They worked their plan flawlessly, Charlie knocked down the soldier and Danny took up the gun. He had been training with Miles as well as they could on the road. Ben hadn’t agreed but he had soon realized that there wouldn’t be any peaceful solution to this conflict.  
Both siblings ran out of the cell in search of their party.  They were intercepted and had to huddle together behind some kind of container and exchange fire. Danny’s hands were shaking and Charlie frowning.  
    “Danny give me the gun. You suck at this.“  
    “Have you ever used one of these?“ He leaned to take a shot.  
    “Nope but I bet I could be better.“ They heard more gunfire coming from another side of the plant. They shared a glance.   
    “That must be Miles.“  
    “He doesn’t know we’re here. You hold them off. I’ll go get him.“ She didn’t give him any chance to disagree as she darted off towards the voices. Monroe, she heard his voice pleading with Miles and a shiver ran through her spine. They were so close. She made herself small as she saw them fighting and arguing. This wasn’t the poised General, nor the suave lover but rather the broken man she had sometimes glimpse in the darkness of his bedroom. She didn’t move from her corner as she spied their conversation. Monroe laughed and then she heard her uncle speaking again.  
    “I’m sorry I didn’t kill you the last time.“ She clenched her teeth.That wasn’t good. She wasn’t sure whether she should scramble back to Danny or witness these two brothers hacking at each other. But the truth was that, even if Danny was calling her back, she wouldn’t have budged. She was discovering her uncle in a light that Danny knew nothing about. He had told her about his kindness in spite of his gruff behavior and his human side that, according to Danny, could never be found in Monroe. And yet, here, she was witnessing how cruel her uncle could be. No wonder Monroe had suspected her of being a trick. Her heart sank when she saw Monroe’s face. She recognized the pain hidden behind his scowl. Her attention drifted to her uncle who was unscathed from their fight. This was the man who had inspired so much loyalty in Danny and contempt in her mother. She couldn’t see anything of her father’s in him. Where her father might have shown pity, there was iron.   
    “You are nothing to me.“ Charlie closed her eyes to avoid seeing the next part. She heard Monroe’s men scramble after Miles. She couldn’t move her limbs. She vaguely thought about how betrayed Danny would feel and how enraged her mother would be. Her thoughts had drifted back to her first night with Monroe and how he had spoken of Miles. She opened her eyes and looked over her shoulder. There was no point in trying to reach the others. Nobody had told her that making a choice didn’t give you any certainty. A part of her was still trying to reason with her stiff body to follow her family. But she could hear Monroe breathing heavily. His presence was unescapable. She quietly scrambled out of her hiding place and tiptoed towards him.  
“Hey,“ She had no idea how to call him, she had never bothered to use his name, “It’s me.“ Blood was trickling from his lip and his eyes were wild and moist. He looked at her as he drew his sword. She raised her hands.  
    “Listen. I’m not here to attack you.“  
    “Then what the fuck you’re doing here?“ His mind was already set on sending a chopper on Miles and his family. He had taken the high road and Miles had taken it as an opening to bring him further down. So that was the song now? He felt no qualms in sending a chopper after him. since he was nobody. But, Charlie was standing in front of him and looking at him as if he were a human being, a person. He halted to consider her.  
    “He shouldn’t have said that“ She whispered. Monroe’s face hardened.  
    “You spied on us?“  
    “Oh come on. You guys were so loud. I was looking for Miles.“ His eyes were throwing daggers but she kept her stance. “I didn’t mean to listen.“ She sprung forward and placed her hands gently on his shoulders. Her lips twitched as if she was about to speak but she closed her mouth and kept her eyes in his. He sighed and looked away.  
    “Come on Charlie. I don’t need a cheerleader.“ He pushed her away and stalked towards the amplifier room. He needed to send the chopper now, let Miles see what he had done and just get rid of him. His sight was blinded with rage and he knew he had to hold on to the momentum. He had to keep his mind bent on Miles’ words and how he had chosen to answer him. But a hand grabbed his forearm and he had to look behind his shoulder to remember who was on his heels.  
    “Where are you going?“  
    “Charlotte let go. For fuck’s sake! “ She reluctantly pulled back and braced herself for his next move. There was no doubt that he wasn’t done with hunting down Miles. A group of his men came running back to report that the Mathesons had left the plant. Monroe narrowed his eyes and Charlie shook her head.  
    “Don’t do it. Whatever you’re thinking about doing, don’t do it.“ A dry laugh answered her pleas, “and here you are again Charlotte Matheson, thinking I actually care about what you want.“ He turned his face away from hers and ordered his men to set up the chopper with the amplifier. Charlie’s face fell as she realized what was happening. He was going to gun down her whole family, hours after she had found them. She ran after him as he climbed up to the helipad. Jeremy Baker glanced at her and then Monroe but no orders had been issued. The General’s whole attention was on this black shiny baby. He watched it fly off with a triumphant gleam in his eyes. Behind him, Charlie’s mouth was open in a silent scream. She would have hurled insults at Monroe if only she could speak and stop berating herself for having chosen to stay here, instead of running away with her family. He was leaning over the railing to peer into the distance when he acknowledged her.  
    “Turns out you’re smarter than I thought. If you’d followed your family, you’d be dead like them.“  He spoke casually as if he was merely pointing out something about missing a bus. His gaze wandered off once more to the distance with a sneer as if he could actually see Miles scrambling through the wilderness.  After a while, he descended from the watch tower and ordered detailed reports, reminding them that Miles was smart and that they shouldn’t stop until there was a body to show. He didn’t care about the others. Just Miles. Charlie followed him numbly. She sat in from of him in the carriage taking him back to his mansion. He didn’t speak to her. His eyes were dark and guarded. She was inspecting her hands as she tried to make sense of recent events. The numbness had been replaced by a flood of conflicting feelings. Her anger at her family was filled with regret. She had barely had time to mend their broken ties. The short time with Danny had reminded her of what it was to be part of a family and yet hadn’t been sufficient to make her chose them. Try as she might, she couldn’t make sense of her own actions and the chain of reactions that followed. When they arrived at their destination, she was still unable to understand herself. She was left at her own disposal in the main hall of the mansion as Monroe hurried to some other part of the structure. There was no orders barked about her, nobody looked at her twice. She was free to leave. She considered the door leading outside and remembered how it had felt. Maybe Miles was as smart as Danny said he was and they had survived it. But she could still see Monroe’s face as Miles spoke with measured well chosen words. It was their business, and yet it had echoed something in her. Even if she found her family, she knew she would forever be out of place. She regretfully turned her back to the entrance. She walked through the hallways to another corridor and somehow found her way to his bedroom. There were no guards in attendance and the door wasn’t locked. She slipped inside. The room was immaculately clean. The only thing littering the floor was her box of belonging. She shoved it under the bed. She kicked off her boots and padded barefoot around the room. She inspected the two armchairs on either side of the couch, the bar and stopped in front of the bed: everything was pristine. After the dust and decay of the power plant, it seemed like she had stepped into another world, where everything was in its place. She sat on the bed with her back against the headboard. It felt like she had been gone for a long journey and was now back home. And yet, nothing belonged to her here. She was a part of the furnishing. The thought didn’t revolt her, instead, she sank into the bed with a satisfied sigh.  
  
    When Monroe walked in his bedroom, he was greeted by the sight of Charlie sprawled in the middle of the bed. He stopped in his tracks to consider her. She was awake, he could see her eyes looking at him through the curtain of her hair. He took off his coat and hung it in the wardrobe. He then proceeded to unbutton the collar of his shirt. He could feel her gaze on him but she was silent. She had often seen this routine and had figured out that it was his way to shrug off his General persona. She wondered if he did the same thing when he was alone. From what she had gathered, Miles had left a while ago. It seemed ludicrous to imagine Monroe going through this shedding off his mask for no one. So much power and yet such a huge and silent room for a lone man. Charlie had never had the luxury of having a room of her own at Drexel but she knew about loneliness. Her line of world had sometimes acquainted her with those who were estranged from the world and found solace in the pleasure of the flesh. She could recognized them in a few seconds. Monroe had been harder to crack because he was like an onion: layers and layers that made her stunk her eyes and made her blind. But now that fear was dissipating, with her eyes washed from too many tears, she could see him a bit more clearly. He may have been on top of a whole republic but he was the loneliest man she had seen. Her sharp gaze made the back of his neck prickle and he looked at her again.  
    “Why are you here Charlotte?“  His voice was barely above a whisper but she heard him. She stretched luxuriously and sat up.  
    “Don’t know. Where should I go?“ He went to the bar to pour himself a drink, without even thinking about it, he poured her one too. She got up from the bed, one leg after the other and came to stand by his side. They sipped their drinks in silence. The housekeeper announced the dinner. Monroe nodded to Charlie. They ate without a word, glancing at each other once or twice. Charlie didn’t go for a second helping but finished her plate in slow motion. They managed to stagger back to the bedroom where Monroe mixed more drinks. She took her drink to the couch and stretched her long legs towards the fire. He was keeping a vigil by the window, his gaze kept on drifting towards her and catching her unaware. She wasn’t the same guarded and made up doll that had been presented to him a few days ago; Nor was she the little Matheson dart that had sunk into his skin. There was no logic in her actions and he could hardly make sense of the young woman invading his privacy.   
  
    After a few hours, Monroe had ended up sitting in the armchair. The candles had been snuffed as the hour was growing late. Charlie was the first one to make her way to the bed. He heard her unzip her jeans, slip it off each of her legs and the flutter of her shirt and tank top dropping to the floor. He glanced at her in the glow of the dying embers. She didn’t pay attention to him as she slipped under the covers. it seemed hardly possible that a few hours ago she had been transferred from one cell to the other. Chaos didn’t scare Charlotte Matheson and he was pretty sure she wasn’t afraid of him anymore. In spite of his actions, she hadn’t flinched once this evening. She hadn’t berated him again about her family either. He had expected her to beg some more, crawl over him or at least throw a tantrum. Instead, she had been silent and relaxed in his presence. He had no idea what to make of her strange behavior. He shrugged off his thoughts and followed her example and stripped down to his boxers. Charlie was lying on her side with her back towards him when he joined her. He leaned towards her, his lips brushing her ear and his nose smelling the warm scent of her hair.  
    “Thought you’d like to know they didn’t find any bodies.“ She abruptly turned and almost hit her nose on his.  
    “Why didn’t you tell me before?“ He didn’t answer. Their lips were a breath away and she was trying to read his face in the darkness.  
    “Why are you here Charlotte?“  She huffed in frustration and rolled to her back. She didn’t answer for a long time. He thought she had fallen asleep. His own eyes were closing when she finally spoke.  
    “You’re a pain in the ass. You know that? In fact, I should have left with them. I’m not even sure why I came back.“ Her hand brushed his arms and lingered on his tattoo as she continued speaking, “it’s nothing noble. I don’t understand them. Their fight, their beliefs. But you? I think you make more sense. And maybe that means I’m also a little crazy.“ His first impulse was to swat away her hand but he didn’t move. He just listened to her breathe. She was really here. It wasn’t an illusion. The warmth of her hand was spreading through his arm, and her body was just a breath sway. Miles words had rilled him and the loneliness had gnawed at him. Violence seemed to be the only way to shut off the pain and sense of betrayal. And yet, Charlie’s voice and words had a totally different effect. She unsettled him too but in a very different way.  
    “I sent choppers to kill your whole family.“  
    “I know. I’m angry at you for this.“  
    “Then, why are you still here? “ She sighed and moved to her side again, to face him. He was like a dog with a bone and she knew he wouldn’t stop until she offered him some sort of explanation.  
    “You’re really dense for an evil dictator. Yes I’m angry at you but I’m angry at them. Actually, I don’t really know who I’m not angry at. Coming back here, to you is like the lesser of two evils.“  
    “You’re calling me evil?“  
    “You’re not exactly a puppy.“ He laughed. She eagerly eyed him in the penumbra. It was such a rare sight that she wished there was more light.  
    “Charlotte. You’ve seen what I’m capable of.“  
    “And? I’ve seen worst.“ He pulled her on top of him. He kissed her lips, his arms going around her waist.  
    “I’m not saying that what you’ve done is nothing. I just.. I get it.“  
    “That means no sex?“  
    “Well that’s something else.“ Her voice was very low, making his spine tingle. She licked her lips and leaned forward. Instead, he kissed her chin and his lips trailed to the hollow of her throat. He was rewarded by a moan and her legs parted to straddle him. He reached to pull at her panties and ripping the garment. They parted to strip off the last pieces of clothing separating them. They reached for each other eagerly. Charlie straddled him again and leaned down to kiss him as her hair tumbled down around his face, like a curtain.  
  
    Since the beginning, sex had been the easiest thing between them. Interacting, talking or deciphering the other was strenuous. But once it was dark and their bodies were doing the talking, everything was simple. Charlie slipped off Monroe to lie by his side, with her head nestled to his chest. He felt her body grow lax. He wasn’t feeling sleepy. His mind was too alert. He knew he was threading on a dangerous path. Mathesons had this knack of getting into his skin but he knew that there was no trusting them. They were capable of anything for whatever they called the greater good. Sex was sex. He wasn’t a lovelorn teenage girl. He knew very well that it meant nothing. Charlie was skilled because she had been trained. It had nothing to do with affairs of the heart. If she had chosen to leave with her family, he would have easily replaced her. Or so, he tried to convince himself. But he made no movement to push her away, instead his arm wrapped around her. The anger that had kept him focused had faded and instead he almost felt contended. A wave of slumber washed over him. It was just the endorphins. Tomorrow, he will continue burning down each and every rebel base until he was sure Miles was gone and the rebellion crushed. The sense of betrayal was still burning him. It didn’t matter if Miles’ niece was sleeping in his arms; It really didn’t. His hand circled her slim wrist and for a moment he considered how easy it would be to crush it, crush her. She had barely made it from Drexel’s, it wouldn’t take much to make her break or turn her into a perfect weapon. Then what would Miles say? A smile stretched his lips. Monroe pulled the slumbering Charlie closer to him and she mumbled something but her eyelids didn’t flutter. His arm wrapped around her was caging her like the perfect golden trophy.   
  
    The next morning, they were having breakfast in the dining room. Charlie had dared to try a muffin with her coffee. Her mouth was full when Monroe addressed her.  
    “You hated being at Drexel’s mercy, didn’t you?“ She nodded with a quizzical expression but he continued in a slow measured voice “Wouldn’t you want to be able to defend yourself.“ She nodded again.  
    “I think you’d be a perfect recruit for the Militia.“ Charlie stopped chewing and didn’t even bother swallowing when she answered.  
    “Not so sure about that. When I said I didn’t believe in their fight that didn’t mean I believe in yours.“ He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes.  
“But you’re here Charlotte. What do you believe in?“ She swallowed the remnants of her muffin and took a sip of coffee for good measure.  
    “Maybe if I’d grown up with dad and met Miles with Danny, I’d be different. But I think you’re all crazy.“ She offered him a challenging gaze, trying to be playful. But it was like playing tennis against a wall. His tone was implacable and his face carved in stone.  
    “You have the right to an opinion. But you see, I’m not really asking you. I’m recruiting you.“  
    “What?“  
    “Don’t worry Charlotte. We’ll still see each other. I’ll make sure you’re trained somewhere close. I wouldn’t want to lose one of my only asset in this fight.“ He sneered. His eyes were cold and his shoulders straight. _Asset_. She felt her heart sinking but she nodded grimly. Once more, she had let their nighttime occupation soften her up but he was still General Monroe. She had chosen to come back to him but it didn’t change anything for him. She was still a piece on his board in this endless chess game against Miles. She ate another piece of muffin, had some more coffee and took her time before speaking again. She gathered her wits and courage. She didn’t have many options. He didn’t seem to be keen on her leaving now that she was part of his strategy. Maybe this way, she would finally step out of the life Drexel had moulded her for. Being a soldier couldn’t be worst than sleeping with a paunchy stinky mobster.    
    “So I don’t really have a say in this?“ Her mistook her calm demeanor for despair.  
    “Lighten up. I’m not ordering you to sleep with other men. Just kill them“  
    “No you just want me to fight against my family.“ His easy smile faded.  
    “This is war, Charlotte. And you chose to stay in the Republic.“  
    “I didn’t.“ But her voice didn’t sound convinced and her gaze dropped to her plate. He was right. If she hated so much his rule, she would have left. If she had loved her family more, she would have left. What was love? It wasn’t something she could have afforded in Drexel’s world and she had no idea what it felt like and what it entailed. Hate was so much easier. Monroe was looking at her as she was struggling with herself. He felt a perverse pleasure in seeing her confused face. Her seductive manner, makeup and charming smiles were gone. The mask had fallen. She was just a girl with Rachel Matheson’s features and Miles’ stubbornness., and she was at his mercy. His sneer dissipated as another feeling crossed his mind. Something about the way she was playing with her food and the sadness in her eyes made him pause. Hazy images of his sisters, of unknown strangers he had fought to protect after the blackout made his dark schemes waver. He remembered her small voice in the darkness telling him she had nowhere to go, the scars marring her soft body, the way she had stood up to protect her brother. His only loyal friend creeped in, self hatred. No wonder Miles had left, Jeremy or Tom rarely dared to speak their minds. He was a plague that had spread on the land and he had no way of stopping it.  
    “Charlotte,“ he murmured.  
    “No you’re right. I’d like to know how to fight“ A surprisingly mischievous smile lighted her face. “How else would I kill you?“ He laughed, “I’d like to see you try.“ His shoulders relaxed against the back of his chair. He had given her enough reasons to fear and hate him, instead she was teasing him like he was just a guy. Like a thirsty man, he leaned forward.  
    “D’you think I’m going to let you parade around with a weapon so that you can off me?“  
    “A girl can dream.“ Her smile faded and she looked at him without seeing him, “I don’t think I’d be able to kill anyone… Ever.“  
    “You’ll get used to it. The first one is the hardest.“ Her gaze focused on him and she tilted her head coyly.  
    “This is what they told me at Drexel’s.“ He wasn’t smiling anymore and his eyes were narrowed. He replied crisply, “I guess we can get you processed today.“   
  
    That night, she slept in the barracks. She had settled in the lower bunk. It felt strange not to have Monroe slumbering by her side. He had mentioned something about her leaves being spent at the mansion. Her training would be starting the next day and it made her body stiffen. Most of the people around her were men and the girls looked at her strangely. It seemed her reputation had preceded her. She was just hoping nobody expected her to put out. She was used to pleasing all kind of men and even women but it would feel strange after Monroe. She had gotten used to his exclusiveness. It was the first time, she had been sleeping with just one man. It had made the line between service and please blur. She stretched in the crammed space to feel her limbs and dissipate the cold invading her. She shook away any thoughts about feelings. What she was craving was sex. Her body had grown accustomed to it. But tomorrow, she would learn about using it for something else than pleasure. She cheered herself up by reminding herself that soon she will be learning to fight and take another step into the path to freedom. She fell asleep thinking about the tattoo on Monroe’s arm and how it would feel to have his initial branded on her own skin. This was the new life she had unwillingly chosen for herself. Once more, she was living under someone else’s leave and far from being her own master. In spite of her yearning for liberty, It felt oddly comforting.  
  
    Monroe came back to his bedroom around midnight. Everything was in its usual place. He almost expected Charlie to spring out of the closet or the bathroom with a cheeky grin. He was used to absence and it’s long trail of ghosts. It was nothing new. The floorboard creaked under his boots but the room was silent again. If it wasn’t for the crackling of the fire, it would be silent as a tomb. He discarded his clothes on the sofa, instead of hanging them in the wardrobe;  As if he missed Charlie’s clutter. He didn’t want to miss her. It would mean admitting that she had a hold over him. But he would be damned before he admitted that another Matheson had succeeded to snake herself into his life. Instead of food, he chose to indulge in a drink. It made his night-time routine more bearable. The sight of his clothes laying about made him discard his drink and rush to store them in the wardrobe. Charlie would have snickered. The military discipline wouldn’t suit her but it was the best decision he had made in days. It would put her back in her place. Their interactions had become too casual and comfortable. He was General Monroe and, with Miles lurking in the darkness, he needed to stay in control. Charlotte Matheson would be a very useful asset, the perfect weapon, against the _Matheson_ rebellion.   
  
      
  
      
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was a plot twist that I personally didn't expect. When the Bass Monroe currently living in my brain decided that, I was very surprised and I actually laughed at myself. I hope you are still enjoying the story. I thought it would be interesting to see Miles from another angle and to have, for once, someone taking Monroe's side. Having said that, it wasn't very pleasant to focus on his 'dark' side but it seemed logical for Charlie to experience it this way since she didn't know Miles very well and it was all out of context. But I stand with the idea that both Bass and Miles are made from the stuff. They aren't evil, they just made bad decisions for the best of reasons (well at least in the beginning) and Miles isn't a saintly hero to a dark evil Bass: they both have their sins and saving graces. But I'm pretty sure I'm preaching to the choir! Enough of that!
> 
> Once more, I can't thank you enough for your support here and on Tumblr. You guys are the best!


	7. To claim with a name

    The smell of charred skin was permeating the air. Charlie stood in line with other recruits, waiting to become a real Militia soldier. The training had been long and all her bones ached. And yet, it had been a more bearable than her processing into a Drexel girl. Around her, in spite of the discipline people were talking among themselves. Something about the tough training had made these strangers, from all over the Republic, bound. Unfortunately, Charlie had more foes than friends. A reckless fire that had been almost dormant, for years, was bursting out. Twice, she had been caught punching one of her comrades. At first, it had felt empowering to learn to use her body as a weapon rather than a source of pleasure for men. But soon, she had learned to detest the chain of command, of never being able to stroll off and having to follow orders. Knowing that her skin would soon be branded with Monroe’s initial made her realize that she would never be free. Her thoughts, body and strength still didn’t belong to her. She shuddered as she thought about the day she might face her own family on the battlefield. What if, she was ordered to shoot Danny? It didn’t seem right to numbly follow orders that she only half heartedly believed in.  
    The line moved and Charlie took a few steps towards the room. Today, she would officially become a Militia soldier. Better than being a prostitute, right? She straightened up the collar of her shirt and looked over her shoulder. Behind her, a guy called Anton was looking pale and his eyes kept on darting towards the officer checking their names.  She had seen him cry once, after a long night. They had been ordered to protect a cabin for their final trial. Their opponents were not actual rebels but it still felt pretty real. Charlie had been feverish the whole evening but she had never left her post and even managed to catch someone trying to sneak in from the window. It was a dark night and if she hadn’t caught the reflection of their knife, she would have missed them. But Anton hadn’t been so lucky. He had fallen asleep next to the door. His punishment had been harsh and the insults worse. The next day, Charlie had found him in tears in a corner. At first, she had ignored him and pretended to look for fresh linen, that is until her annoying empathizing nature had kicked in, and she had tried to talk to him. Even now, as she waited for her turn to be branded, she could remember the boy’s snivel and the harsh words he chose. Something about not needing the help of Monroe’s used whore. She had punched him and ended up in a cell to cool down. Today, Anton looked equally pale and pitiful but she felt no compassion for him. A small part of her hoped that he would cry like a baby.  
    After almost a half an hour wait, Charlie was in the front of the line. She heard her precursor hiss. She shuddered. It couldn’t be worse than whipping, could it? She had been burnt with cigarettes once but alcohol had made the memory hazy. Pain had never frightened her. She stepped forward.  
    “Name?“  
    “Charlotte Manson.“ She had picked up this pseudonym, for being known as a Matheson wouldn’t be a wise idea. For some incomprehensible reason, Monroe had stifled a laugh when she had shared the name with him; no doubt some pre-blackout things. The officer peered into his list for a long time and shook your head.  
    “I don’t see it.“ He frowned, “the only Charlotte is Charlotte Monroe.“ There was an amused glint in his gaze as he scrutinized her. A hint of red burned her cheeks as her eyes went wide. The man repeated the name and she was shoved forward. She heard snickers behind her back.  
    “Hey! That’s not my name!“ The officer wasn’t looking at her any more. She was just one in a long line of grunts. So what if the General had touched up the list and changed her name? It was none of his business. She shrugged him off but he took hold of her arm again.  
    “That’s not my name.“ He didn’t budge. As she stumbled inside, she saw a rickety hospital bed with straps and another soldier warming up the brand. She cringed. The smell was making her choke but her eyes were venomous and her hands fisted.  
    “My name isn’t Charlotte Monroe. I’m not related to General Dickhead.“ She spat. Both soldiers shared a glance over her head as she was pushed to the bed. Once she was securely strapped, the big guy muttered.  
    “I’ll have to report this.“  
    “Do that. And make sure he knows I asked if he wanted to change his name to General Dickhead.“ Her sneer turned into a scowl as soon as the brand touched her skin and she passed out.  
  
    When Charlie came to, she was lying on the floor, facing the ceiling. She turned her head to see a massive desk, a majestic fireplace, wide windows and the Monroe Republic banner. She noticed a pair of black boots, solid legs, squared back and untameable curls. Each folds of General Monroe’s uniform were unruffled and spotless as he was inspecting the city from his window. She stretched her stiff body, causing her freshly branded wrist to scrape against the floor. Her grunt made him turn around and come to her, in a few swift steps. He offered her his hand.  
    “Welcome back Charlotte.“ She took it and stood up shakily. He raised her wrist for inspection. With the tip of his finger he traced his initial and she hissed. Scabs were covering her skin where the brand had been applied. It would take time until it healed and became part of her body.  
    “Another scar.“ She nodded. His blue eyes flickered to hers and his gaze hardened.  
    “You cannot talk about me like this Charlie.“ She opened her mouth but he shook his head and continued, “I’m General Monroe and you are just a soldier.“ His voice was soft but with a hint of ice cold temper.  
    “Right. That’s why you changed my name to Monroe?“ She hissed. He didn’t answer her question and turned to his neatly ordered desk. He picked up a stack of paper and perused them. His forehead was scrunched in concentration. She noticed the dark circle under his eyes but pushed away any compassionate thoughts. Her wrist was itching her and she was finding it hard to resist the urge to scratch it raw. He dropped his paperwork to stalk back to her side.  
    “I gotta admit I thought you were hilarious but there’s a time and place Charlotte.“ She looked at her wrist and grimaced.  
    “Seriously?“ She challenged him. He shrugged. His step was energetic but his face lacked spark. It was strange that his eyes could go from limpid blue to a murky darker tone; just like his mood. She wasn’t sure whether she should ask him about why he had decided to change her name. She could be like a dog with a bone but his attention wasn’t on her. He only seemed mildly angry at her, as if her actions didn’t matter. The General Monroe everyone feared must have shot her. He examined the view from the window.  
    “I know how to find Miles.“ His voice sounded distant. Charlie bit back a remark about his obsession for Miles. The few times she had seen him since the beginning of her training, he had shared one crazy plan after the other to catch his former brother in arms. He seldom asked for her opinion but when he did, she would just joke about his single-mindedness and he would drop it. The truth was, it terrified her. She couldn’t care less about her unknown uncle but each plan evoked a violence that would make her brother and parents collateral damage.  He went on droning without a pause, she could have been a statue for all that he cared. She sighed as she studied the massive fireplace; at least, he was distracted from her insubordination.  
    “It’s going to cost but it will worth it.“ He unbuttoned his collar and massaged his neck. His eyes wandered to her face, making her flinch to attention. But it wasn’t the General that was looking at her, just the man who could ramble for hours about his lost friend. There was a pregnant pause and she felt compelled to speak up.  
    “Why? I get that he was a dick but why can’t you let it go? Have some self respect for fuck’s sake.“ She blurted out. He pinched his nose and his gaze pierced her. She was really playing with fire.  
    “Self-Respect? Damn it Charlotte. This isn’t about self-respect.“ He flounced towards the window. She took a step back and felt sweat trickling down between her shoulder blades, but her eyes had a deadly glare in them. There was a well of fury inside of her, that was waiting for the right recipient to fill.  
    “Oh really?“ She snorted. “Just because Miles called you nothing, you want to kill him? Then what? He will die knowing how desperate you are for his good opinion. It’s path…“ She hardly had the time to finish her sentence, he was in front of her and his hands were around her slim wrists. The pressure was unbearable on her barely healed skin but she gritted her teeth.  
    “What did I say about..“  
    “Time and a place?“ She offered in a feigned light tone. He shook his head in disbelief and let go of her. He started to pace. She kept her gaze on the M that she would never be able to take off her skin. She had chosen this, hadn’t she? Her gaze drifted to Monroe, and she took a deep breath, yes, she had chosen to stay here with this monster. But Monroe’s mask had melted away again and his eyes were wild, his cheeks aflame but he didn’t look like he would start shooting people.  
    “I just don’t understand. One second he was just Miles and the next…  He’s saying those things. All I did was for him. What is that?“ The tone of his voice reminded her of the man she had encountered on her first night here. It was difficult to ignore the pain etched on his face. He looked like a wild horse that was struggling against domestication. He seemed out of place in this grand sparkly office. No matter how many beatings or deceits, Charlie’s kind heart had never sealed itself into stone. Maybe that was the reason why she was stuck in this predicament. Following the compassion she had been struggling against for so many days, she stopped him in his pacing by placing her hands on his shoulders and her head between his shoulder blades. He stopped in his stride and she could hear his breath rushing in and out from his lungs.  
    “I don’t know Miles. At all. But I don’t think you’re going to solve anything by hunting him down. What about talking?“ He snickered but didn’t push her away. Her warm body pressed against his back made him feel less alienated. In this war against the Mathesons, Charlotte was still here. But he knew the worth of the loyalty of a Matheson.  
    “You should know by now that nothing is solved by talking Charlotte. Especially since you’ve been busted more than once for talking with your fists“ He turned around and lifted her chin with his thumb. He had intended to stare her down, but instead, his gaze dropped to her mouth and she bit her lower lip. His lips crashed on hers as he pulled her against him. Her hair tumbling out their ties, in his grasp. She breathlessly kissed him back, pulling him closer by his collar. She heard the fabric rip and she pulled away slightly and panted.  
    “Aren’t I supposed to go back to my detachment, General?  
    “Haven’t you got two days off?“ He answered with laughter in his voice. She shrugged but she remembered hearing something like that. Her hands went back to his neck and her fingers lingered on his nap. He briefly closed his eyes.  
    “Don’t you think we’re too dressed for that?“ He opened his eyes, made a face and pulled her hands away.  
    “I have a meeting.“  
    “All that for nothing.“ She licked her lips and shrugged. She unbuttoned the top of her uniform. His brow furrowed.  
    “What? I don’t have a meeting and these uniforms are scratchy and uncomfortable, General.“  
    “You’re impossible Charlotte.“ She undressed further but he finally turned back to his desk, and picked up a report he had received earlier. But his gaze wandered back to Charlie. She was rolling down her pants. He wasn’t sure whether she was aware of his gaze but she went on undressing. He pushed the leather ledger on his desk and crept closer to Charlie. She was busy pulling off her tank top. She met his hungry gaze with a mischievous smile. He leaned closer to breathe her in, she smelled like sunshine and laughter. She took this opportunity to kiss him. His resolve to chastise her or focus on his scheming melted away the instant her tongue slithered to his. In a flash they were pulling at each other’s clothing or whatever was left of Charlie's. He took a step back.  
    “I don’t have the time“  
    “Well, I do. “ She bent to take off her boots and slip off her pants that were hunched around her ankles. Pretty soon, she was standing stark naked in front of him. They could hear people going about their day beyond the door. His mouth was open but he could only look at her. Her smile was gone too as she stumbled beneath the intensity of his gape. She backed until her backside was met by the smooth desk. She pushed away his papers, the books crashed on the floor, and settled herself on it with her legs dangling down. She wasn’t sure if Monroe was scowling or leering but she had caught his attention away from anything but her. She was heady with desire and knowing she had this effect on him. Like a blind man, he stumbled forward. His gaze took in the mess she had made of his paper. His office had always been pristine. Even if someone was shot here, it would be clean within minutes. Charlie created chaos wherever she went. He should be reprimanding her for her behaviour but her insolence was intoxicating. He advanced towards his desk and stopped when she was within grasp. His hands travelled up her thighs. Her legs trapped him. The Militia training had developed her muscles and yet there was still something so silky and soft about her skin. Mesmerized, his hands travelled on this body that he had gotten to know. Her moans didn’t distract him form his own discovery of each limb. Her hands had found his waistband and pulled down his pants. They slipped off easily down his hips along with his boxers. She might not have the time to unwrap his whole body but she was adamant to at least find some satisfaction. Her hands grasp his hips as she raised her face to kiss and lick the hollow of his throat as she unbuttoned his shirt. Monroe himself pushed off the decanter and glass from the corner of his desk as he tumbled over her.  
  
    When she walked out of his office, she hardly looked like the picture of the perfect soldier. Her hair was tangled, her clothes half-undone. He had been very brisk after they were done desecrating his desk and ordered her to dress and leave. As she made her way to the bedroom, she crossed the paths of many of his men who merely nodded to her. This previously unknown and scary place was where she belonged. She idly wondered whether this was why Monroe had everyone wear his initial, to create some sort of family? A clan that followed the same path. A clan that you couldn’t leave, unless you wanted to be hunted for the rest of your life. Charlie shrugged of her thoughts as she passed a drowsy guard.  Whatever was going on between Monroe and Miles wasn’t her concern. Both men were an enigma although, the General made far more sense. She had heard about how every of the methods and strategies they were learning were coming straight from Miles Matheson’s rulebook.  Stopping in front of the door, Charlie’s hand froze on the handle. If her uncle had been so close to Monroe, so involved in the Republic, something terrible must have made him turn his back. What could have made the actual _Butcher of Baltimore_ run away from his own creation?  
  
    Charlie didn’t let the mystery deter her from going through the motions. She closed the door behind her. After years of becoming a perfect object of pleasure, a face with thousands identities that could appeal to the men in front her, to come to a crossroad in which every one was connected to her. It was overwhelming. Where she wasn’t an anonymous shadow. Being claimed by one side and the other, because any other reasons Monroe might come up about changing her name wouldn’t convince her. Naming is possessing, like branding or welcoming someone in the folds of a family. She wasn’t a creature of the underworld any more, she was a part of this political canvas. The idea that her choice might impact the whole history of the USA or even the world, gave her a headache. She scrubbed her eyes and looked around: everything was in its usual place but it looked even more luxurious and wide, after the barracks.  She went to wash and change her clothes. It was nice to have some leisure after the harsh discipline of the training.  
    She slumped on the bed and rest her heard against the plush cushion, but, something caught her attention. There was an earring stuck on the corner of the bedside table. It wasn’t hers. She had never gotten her ears pieced. She would have noticed it, if, it had been there before. Breath stuck in her throat as she examined the trinket. Someone else had slept here. She sprung out of the bed and tiptoed to the bar. With shaky hands, she poured herself a drink and downed it. As she poured another one, she let her thoughts wander. Of course, he had other women. They weren’t together. They were… nothing. And yet, she kept on coming back to him and he took whatever she offered. She was still reeling over her own feelings and the betrayal she shouldn’t feel when Monroe walked in. He barely registered her and she bit back the words she had been rehearsing. Defeated she looked at him as he went to nurse a drink by the fireside. She knew by now how he would react. He would remind her with harsh words that she was just one of the many girls that he used for entertainment. And he would be right. She had no claim over him. Her gaze dropped to the earring she still held in her hand. She tried to observe it intently, to ignore the questions rushing inside her head but it wouldn’t work. She slipped the earring in her jeans pocket. _“They aren’t your lovers or friends, Izzy. You belong to them for the time they pay you for, but they aren’t yours. When will you understand that? We can't afford to care for them, girl.“_ Gemma had lectured her so many times and yet, even now, the words wouldn’t sink. She couldn’t not care.  
She forced a smile on her lips as she went to join him.  
    “So? How bad is going to be my punishment for calling you General Dickhead?“  
    “About that, Charlotte. What the hell you think you’re doing? You’re a solider under my command.“ She shrugged but he went on, “It’s funny but…“ He wasn’t smiling but his eyes were twinkling with amusement.  
    “That means I can call you General Dickhead now?“  
    “Don’t push it, Charlotte.“ He knew he should have been angry. Some part of him was but with her goofy smile, she reminded him of Miles; of the good times they had when they had each other’s back; of having someone on his side, who wasn’t afraid to joke with him. It was a dangerous path but he couldn’t stop himself from smiling back.  
    They went through the routine she had gotten to know when she was staying at his place. They even had a rematch but she returned his caresses and kisses without much conviction. Images of Monroe with other women filled her mind. She chose to sleep on the other corner of the bed keeping her body well away from his. He didn’t make any comment. She tossed, turned and sighed the whole night and didn’t get a wink of sleep. She kept on wondering if the girls had stayed the night, if they had cuddled with him, if he had spoken in his low secret voice. It was only at dawn that her restless mind found some respite. On the other side of the bed, Monroe slept like a log.  
  
    The next morning, she was left to her own device. She took her time to devour the fresh bread, two cranberry muffins and even an apple. Her appetite had been heightened by the awful Militia food. Dressed in her civilian clothes, she wandered off through the streets of Philadelphia. Her list of friends, given her special circumstances, may have been pretty shot but not her list of favourite places. She preferred discovering new corners and parks, rather than talking with people who couldn’t begin to understand her views. She had also found out that those who befriended her were focusing on her strange connection to Monroe and maybe even the Mathesons. The politics of friendship within the ranks were too much like those of Drexel’s own special army and thus she only interacted when it was needed and mostly with people who were not connected to the Militia or Monroe. It was this way that she had found a little bakery that served the best cheesecake she had ever tasted. It was actually the first time she had any but she was pretty sure they were the best. It was her special haunt, where nobody knew who she was and where nobody could find her. The family who owned it was very friendly and knew not to ask too many questions. It was her current destination but as she crossed a busy street, someone caught her arm.  
    “Izzy? Or should I call you Charlie?“  She turned her head to face Jason Neville. He was also dressed in civilian clothes. No doubt, he was visiting his mother. She forced a smile. She had found a way of being polite to him when they had to interact. It was with him that she had started her first fist fight in the barracks. He had been surprised about her enlisting and she had unleashed her anger on him. There had been talks about her being thrown out of the Militia but, no doubt, Monroe’s pressure had made her end up in a cell. They both looked at each other timidly. The sooner they would greet each other, the sooner they would part. This realization made Charlie acknowledge his question.  
    “You can call me Charlie. The cat’s out of the bag.“  
    “Where are you heading?“  
    “Just hanging around.“ He looked very serious and Charlie frowned. The feelings she had harboured for him were associated with the pain of being punished, but she still cared for him. And. the way his dark eyes kept on darting about, made her jumpy.  
    “What’s wrong Jason?“ He smiled but it wasn’t a reassuring display. His face was drawn and his shoulders straight.  
    “I’m leaving. I’m glad I bumped into you actually. I’m joining the rebellion.“ He was whispering but she checked over her shoulder that nobody was listening.  
    “What?“  
    “I’ve been feeding the rebellion with information and I know where your uncle is. I’m joining them. And I think you should come with me.“ Charlie just stood there looking into his eyes. Her hands were jammed in her pockets. It seemed like they were stuck in some kind of time lock and couldn’t escape the same predicament. This time, she was the one holding the key for his freedom. She couldn’t help but admire his stance. He looked proud and strong, nothing like the boy who had betrayed her for his father’s good grace.  
    “Jason. You shouldn’t tell me this. If you want to go. Go. But don’t tell me anything.“ Her voice was wavering but he closed the gap between them and kissed her cheek. She jumped away.  
    “He’s a ticking bomb. Everyone’s looking for a way out and so should you.“ She shook her head. Her hand brushed where his lips had kissed her.  
    “Look. I understand why you’re running for the hills. I can’t leave.“ He bent his head and his voice was raw when he answered.  
    “Can’t leave because of him?“ She shrugged and he shook his head with a disgusted look.  
    “Any message for your family?“ This time she looked at her feet.  
    “Just let them know I’m OK. Don’t tell them about the Militia and… and the other stuff. They wouldn’t understand.“ He nodded.  
    “I won’t tell him Jason. I promise.“ With that, she turned around. Jason looked at the forlorn figure speeding away. The guilt that would never leave him, made him want to take her with him, screaming and kicking. But he wouldn’t forget her tirade about losing the ability of making her own choice because of him. The least he could do, was to honour her decision, no matter how wrong she was. Charlie wiped her watery eyes. Her desire to go huddle in the warm bakery was gone. She didn't want to be around people, any more. She made a beeline for the mansion. Part of her, that very dark and twisted part, wanted to tell Monroe about it. Time for Jason to know how it feels to be betrayed.

  
    When she faced Monroe at dinner, the words kept on bubbling to her lips but every time, she would remember how brave and earnest Jason had looked. Monroe wouldn’t hesitate to hunt the traitor down and leave a shell. Now that her own cell had been broken, Charlie couldn’t bear the thought of seeing someone else going through the same thing. As she played with the peas on her table, she surprised herself when she realized that she didn’t hate Jason. She actually wished him well. She lifted her eyes from her plate to look at the man in front of her and knew she didn’t hate him either, no matter how many times he tried to destroy her family.  
    Monroe felt her gaze on him. Charlie had been acting strangely since her little show in his office. She looked like a broody and grumpy Miles and, he knew, it didn’t help to poke the bear. He was glad that she hadn’t pushed to know why he had changed her name in the Militia list. She wouldn’t dare mock him openly but he was pretty sure she would snicker if she knew it was a reaction from reading reports saying that Rachel and Miles Matheson had been seen trekking through the countryside together. The story seemed so familiar that it bored him to tears. Miles always had a family and the forgiveness of his loved ones, while, Monroe was left on the outside, looking in. He had nobody to claim as his own, not even his damn army as it was still following Miles’ guidelines. But Charlie, who had willingly turned her back to the other Mathesons, was within his grasp. He spied the brand on her wrist and the hint of a smile graced his face. Miles be damned, Charlie wouldn’t be able to leave his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear readers,  
> thank you so much for your support here and on tumblr. I hope you're still enjoying the story and I haven't strayed into the land of out of character. I wish I was writing a story in which Miles and Charlie actually got along but right now, she doesn't. Little by little our couple is finding their footing. Hope it agrees with you. Oh and I loved Jason being all Che Guevara and noble. Parts of me wish she had run away with him. Anyhow, thank you for reading my story and taking the time to comment it. You guys are the best.
> 
> Also, on the desk scene, great minds work alike: I had written this draft a while ago but the recent desk obsession in the tumblr Charloe community made me pay extra attention to it. It's not my strongest suit but I did my best.


	8. Entanglement

  
    Charlie scratched her head. She had been crouching in the same position for hours now, or so it seemed. Her attention was riveted on a former factory that had been turned into a weapon hold. They had received intelligence that a group of rebels were planning on attacking it. Charlie’s unit had been dispatched there to make sure none of them got out alive. Unless, of course, Miles Matheson or any member of his family were within grasp. This order bothered Charlie more than she had expected. Lately, none of her mission had anything to do with her family. But now, she was forced to think about them. Until now, she had been focused on each of the tasks assigned to her, as her body stretched with a new stance, her spirit grew. She was still a grunt next to the mighty General Monroe. But there was a sense of empowerment that came with her use of deadly weapons. Monroe had been right, after her first kill, it all became easy and almost routine. Something had dulled in her mind or maybe she had stopped thinking. That first time she had actually killed someone, a young redhead with a soft baby face, she hadn’t been able to sleep. Even now, she could remember his face. The others had faded into a mist that haunted her when she wasn’t tired enough. She had pushed any guilt behind. Her own surrounding had proven to be distracting enough. Apart from the waiting, there never was a dull moment. She enjoyed discovering new places. She didn’t have any freedom but it was better than being stuck in a house, spending her time with repulsive men. Monroe had withdrawn into a silence that he would only break to share with her a plan he had to catch Miles. She barely replied and would only snarl. She was still wary of him but her wits and attitude were growing. She stood taller than before and barely flinched when he raised his voice. She was starting to understand the man and anticipate his mood swings. The only thorn in her new life was her one sided, unbreakable bound with Monroe. She knew he merely considered her a distraction, a mean to an end. But she had grown to treasure their time together and had to force herself to ignore the fact he didn’t care that much about her. She sighed as she realized that her thoughts had once more wandered to _him._  
    She heard leaves rustling and her attention was back in the game. Ten to fifteen men and women were creeping out of the woods and scampering towards the factory. One of her comrade aimed at a young blonde and shot. The group panicked, a few ran towards the other side of the factory, where another faction of the squadron was waiting. Others did their best to hide behind the trees, and retaliate. Charlie was aiming at an older greying man when she noticed a familiar face. She straightened and forgot about her whereabouts.  
    “Danny!“ She sprung from her hiding place. She ignored the voices calling her and ran to her brother. A few bullets whizzed a breath away from her.  She grabbed her brother’s arm and pulled him back into the cover of the woods.  
    “Don’t go there. More soldiers are waiting.“ A quick appraisal reassured her, her brother was bruised but not bloody. She nodded and pushed him in the other direction. “Get out of here.“  
    “Charlie?“ His eyes were wide in surprise and he wasn’t budging. The battle was forgotten, all he could see was his sister in enemy garb.  
    “Just go!“ She pushed him and watched him scuttle off without another glance. The shooting had died down behind her. As she made her way back to her initial position, she was trying not to step on any corpse. She almost lost her footing but someone grabbed her arm.  
    “Traitor bitch! Knew we couldn't trust you. I’m taking you to the Major.“ She followed the soldier in silence but ripped his hand away from her body. She was barely aware of what she had done. Her brother was safe. That was all that mattered. Family. And yet, she couldn’t forget his horrified betrayed look when he had seen her uniform. He probably hated her now but at least, he was alive. This time, she had done the right thing.  
  
    The right thing by her family, but certainly not for her commanding officer. Major Henderson was especially hard with her, probably because of all the rumors surrounding her involvement with Monroe and her family legacy. The other soldier, Tupper, was eagerly reporting her actions. Henderson stared intently at her, his gaze lingering on her curves. His thick eyebrows made him look owlish. And yet, there was nothing remotely cute about his face at this moment. She knew that look. She took a deep breath of air and kept her stance. Men were easy to decipher and so predictable. Tupper left the tent and Henderson gave her his full attention. He was too close for comfort and she had a bad feeling growing in the pit of her stomach. Most of the men surrounding Monroe were of the worst kind. They obeyed him unflinchingly but they were capable of terrible things and often found loopholes to satisfy their penchant.  
    “You know that what you did constitute treason. At best, you should have brought him in.“  
    “He’s..“  
    “I didn’t give you leave to speak! I’m reporting this misconduct to the General directly. Not sure you will keep that pretty head of yours.“ He reached towards her, she expected a punch but instead he pinched her cheek.  
    “That is unless…“ She could smell his rank breath. She was pretty sure that this wasn’t a behaviour approved by the Militia. She wasn’t sure what was worse: this paunchy man’s leer or the fury threatening to spill out of General Monroe. Both predicaments seemed the same. And yet, no matter how much time had gone by, images of Drexel’s anger kept on flashing in her mind. She eyed carefully the man in front of her. He wasn’t horrible to look at but his greying hair and pasty face didn’t make him appealing. He reminded her of those clients the girls called the ‘Express Seduce-close-your-eyes- and get-it-over-with’. It will be like going back to the routine she had been trained for. But in the recent months, her attitude towards sex and men had changed a bit. She had started to actually enjoy it and she had grown accustomed to Monroe. Sleeping with Major Henderson would be like nothing had changed, that she was still Izzy, a working girl. There were no ideals ingrained in her, she was still blindly following orders but at least, she wasn’t humiliated like in her previous life. She couldn’t go back to this, yet, it was inevitable. While her mind was trying to make sense about whether she could escape her fate, her body was automatically responding. She tilted her head and wet her lips; drew closer to him and her hands traveled up from his arms to his shoulders. She knew in her heart of hearts that this easy way would certainly lead to disaster, but this was an innate reaction. Who she was?  
    “Right.“ She leaned forward, her lips brushed his but he cackled.  
    “Nah. I want the proper thing. You, in a dress, looking sexy. We’re returning to Philly.“ She nodded and shifted back into her military stance, as he smiled in anticipation.  
      
    In normal circumstances, Charlie would have enjoyed the walk back. Others complain about the pace, and the distance, but she loved the fresh air and, the ability to move about. Her gaze would drift from one side to the other, taking in the wilderness and the ruins of the pre-blackout world. She would often promise herself that, one day, she would go for a real adventure. Beholden to none and choosing her own path. One day, she wouldn’t be a mindless pawn on a board, she would be her own. But today, her mind couldn’t drift to those delightful daydreams, she was preparing herself to slink back into Izzy. That girl was a far cry from Private Charlotte Matheson, hair tied in a tight bun, uniform as crisp as her walk. Izzy would have been strutting and swaying her hips. None of these identities were the real her. She still didn’t know who she was, but sometimes, in Monroe’s presence, she could recognize herself. She grimaced at the thought. And she was pretty certain that if he knew about her deal, he would never forgive her. His trust issues were far worse than hers. And this was betrayal.  
  
    They came back to Philadelphia the next afternoon and were given leave for till the next day. Henderson handed a scrap of paper to Charlie and told her to be there at 8pm sharp. She didn’t meet his eyes and rushed through the streets. She didn’t have any money to buy a new dress. It reminded her that she had to talk to Monroe about what was happening to the money she was supposed to earn. That would have to wait. She would have to find her old dress. It was probably rolled in a corner of the drawer Monroe had awarded her. The men guarding the residence merely nodded at her. There was a silent agreement that every time she was on leave, she was welcome in the general’s apartments. And they would drift back to something resembling domesticity. She would complain about the Militia, he would complain about her attitude. They would eat together, have sex and just stare holes into each other. They hardly spoke about anything personal these days. Monroe was guarded and she was resentful. He was set on making her into the perfect weapon to take down Miles. It would drive him berserk to hear that she had instead chosen to protect her family. The man stationed in front of the bedroom unlocked the door for her. He waited patiently as she retrieved her gun from the holster on her leg.  
    “I know the drill. General’s around?“  
    “Meeting.“ She nodded as she handed him the gun. It was another mundane ritual. Monroe may have been training her to become the perfect soldier but he wasn’t foolish enough to let another Matheson in his bedroom with a firearm. With a sign, she went inside and tiptoed to the chest of drawers, to hunt for her dress. She discarded her hair tie and Henderson’s address on top of it. She found her make-up kit and stilettos. There was no way the major was going to sleep with Charlie. Izzie was all he would see. Her gaze wandered to Monroe’s side table and she paused. He was very careful about protection. He must have had some kind of bad experience with a pregnant girl or getting an STD, because he never failed to use protection. It was a mystery, as to how he had such an endless supply of condoms. Even at Drexel’s, the girls often had to do without. And when they did have access to contraceptions, it was usually condoms made out of animal intestine or even some kind of treated linen. They felt very uncomfortable so they preferred, as their costumers did, to use nothing but herbs to protect themselves. She had witnessed bloody abortions and a variety of old wife tricks to avoid pregnancies or STDs. Girls didn’t last long. It was a miracle, indeed, that she was still in this world and seemingly disease free. Once or twice, she had to take another mix of emmenagogue herbs, that the girls called ‘the morning after tea’.  They used this when their periods were delayed and there was a chance they were pregnant. Their monthly flow would come with a vengeance, far more painful and thick than usual, and they would try not to think about what it meant. Every month, she had awaited her periods with anticipation. Charlie paled as a wave of nausea accompanied those memories. She had to be careful. Her supply of herbs was running low. No matter how terrified she felt about rummaging through Monroe’s personal belongings; she had no choice. She also made a mental note to find where she could buy those precious herbs. The last thing she needed was a bun in the oven. Thankfully, his bedside table drawer was devoid of any personal belongings, well, other than a handful of condoms and a heavy envelope. In spite of the dangerous and urgent situation, Charlie’s curiosity was picked. She peered inside and found a stack of old photographs. They reminded her of her collection of postcard. Each picture was faded with time but the people in them were beaming. She recognized a young Monroe and perhaps Miles. Behind the picture, someone had scribbled ‘Bass and Miles, 1999.  
    “Bass,“ She whispered the nickname. It sounded so unlike him but this was probably how he had been known before becoming General Sebastian Monroe.  There were other pictures including young Miles and Monroe along with other people. The last one was somewhat crumpled, it depicted a family and seemed way older than the other pictures. She recognized a teenage version of Monroe, along with two little girls and a pair of proud parents. The picture of happiness. Her eyes scanned each photograph as she remembered Monroe talking about his family. It was strange to imagine that this child had become a bitter dangerous man. She vaguely noticed that she was tearing up. Briskly, she slid the pictures back in the envelope and returned it to its place. She helped herself to a condom and left it on top of the dresser. Her mouth was dry and she had temporarily forgotten her own misery. Monroe’s, _Bass_ ’, life before the blackout seemed colourful and filled with laughter. She wondered about what kind of man he had been. Shaking her head she marched to the bathroom. She didn’t have the time for this. Didn’t have time to feel bad for General Monroe.  
    She locked herself in the bathroom to ready herself and put on her face. She sponged the grim away, slipped on her dress, applied mascara and lipstick. Her hands went through the familiar routine without any conscious effort. She could remember how the other girls had taught her how to apply makeup. The raucous laughter, scandalous talk and whiff of different kind perfumes filled her silence. She missed the girls. There was camaraderie in the militia ranks but she often felt left out. She was used to the company of women and seeing man as tools or nuisance. There were a few girls in her detachment but they steered clear of her. Well, good girls didn’t like to interact with street walkers lest they got infected.  Charlie brushed her hair and applied perfume between her breast and behind her ears. She looked at her reflection to will herself to raise her mental shields.  
    When she came out of the bathroom, even her way of walking had changed. Maybe it was because of the stilettos, but it was like she was sliding through jelly. Each step was making her hips sway. Her face was already smooth but her mind was filled with apprehension. She had never done a house call and she wasn’t sure it was the safest option. She pulled her hair away from her face as she remembered about the paper containing Henderson’s address. She quickly went to retrieve it but it was gone, along with the condom. She turned around and finally noticed the silhouette standing in the shadows. She crossed her arms over her chest.  
    “Going somewhere?“ Monroe was nursing a drink. He smirked at her expression of deer caught in the headlights. She paused as she peered at his face in semi-darkness. His smile had no mirth, he didn’t look like Bass.  
    “I’m meeting some friends for a drink. You don’t have a rule against that?“ She smiled but her hands clenched around her little clutch. She felt his gaze travel from her toes to her head, and then linger on her cleavage.  
    “You don’t have any friends Charlotte.“ His voice was ever so soft but he stalked closer making her jump a little.  
    “Well I made some.“ She tried to look earnest. She had learned to be a good liar but he had some pretty infallible shit detector. He handed her his glass. She took a tentative sip. His gallantry was often a warning sign.  
    “True but I heard your friends were in the enemy ranks.“ She almost spit out the liquor but instead swallowed it and downed the rest. He knew, he knew, there was no getting out. She would be hanged for treason, whipped, tortured? All those things implied by Major Henderson. The panic was building in her and her eyes quickly darted to check the exits and how fast she could reach them. His laughter made her cringe. She instantly recognized the scrap of paper he was waving in front of her face.  
    “Come on Charlotte. You thought I wouldn’t hear about your little rescue mission?“  She looked at him through her lashes. He didn’t look more furious than usual. Maybe it was a good day? He took the glass from her hands. His sudden movement made her flinch but he was gone to the other side of the room to fill it up.  
    “Question is, where were you going now?“ He discarded his half-empty glass on the bar and scrutinized the address. The flickering firelight made the room look dark and tumultuous. She pouted. The cat was out of the bag. He didn’t look that enraged. But she had come to learn that the softest his voice was, the more poisonous his words were. Her heels clinked on the floorboard as she joined him by the window.  
    “Like I said, I have a life.“  
    “You hate this dress.“ Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. He was observant but she was surprised that he had not only notice her distaste for this item but also remembered it.  
    “Don’t you have a Republic to lead? I heard the rebels are doing pretty well.“ She shrugged.  
    “Thanks to you.“  Excessive drinking meant lot of temper later.  
    “So why don’t you get it over with? I know I’m going to get some kind of punishment for saving Danny. I won’t apologize for it. He’s my brother.“ She paused. Her eyes darted to Henderson’s note. She didn’t want to acknowledge it. Charlie grabbed his glass and emptied it. He turned his back to her as his gaze wandered out of the window.  
    “I know my men pretty well. every single thing. Their little nasty habits. Every fucking thing.“ His voice was so soft that she had to move closer to him to hear him. He had this knack of confusing her by always leading the conversation, never answering her questions and leading her to whatever point he wanted to make. Her eyes were wide and her whole body was shivering.  
    “Some like playing games and can only get it up for boys and girls they are blackmailing.“ He turned around. He hadn’t heard her creeping closer and was taken aback by her proximity. Nevertheless, his eyes searched hers and this time she noticed that he was glaring and his jaw was clenched. She raised her hands, dropping the glass that shattered on impact. If this conversation had played out a few weeks earlier, she would have apologized and hoped for the best. Even now, she was struggling not to do it and to keep her gaze level.  
    “A girl gotta do what a girl’s gotta do…“ She was pretty sure it were lyrics of a song she had heard someone sing at Drexel’s. Monroe wasn’t amused, his eyes narrowed and his shoulders straight.  
    “What did her threaten you with?“ She shook her head but he wasn’t budging. She was at a loss. She hadn’t expected this reaction. She had been ready to face his wrath at her but he was behaving in the most peculiar manner.  
    “Who? Danny?“  
    “Don’t be dense Charlotte. Henderson.“  
    “Well.“ His hands had wrapped themselves around her forearms.“Why would you care?“ He flashed her a smile but didn’t shift his grasp.  
    “If one of my majors is stepping out of line, I need to know. The militia, the republic, can only work if everyone is following my rules.“  
    “Sorry to break it to you but nobody follows any of your stupid rules.“ He bit back the laughter bubbling inside of him. In this whole republic, the only person who dared to say such things to him was this thin slip of a girl. He didn’t know if he was furious at Henderson for betraying his trust or for taking advantage of Charlie. But Charlie’s misstep? He had expected it. She was a Matheson after all.  
    “Apparently, I’m guilty of treason.“ She added with a broken smile.  
    “Did you tell anything to Danny?“  
    “No. We didn’t speak I just…“  
    “Then you’re not guilty of treason.“  
    “Oh.“  
    “But don’t get me wrong. Do something like this again… “ He smirked, “and don’t make the mistake of thinking your brother wouldn’t hesitate if you were his target.“  
    “You don’t know Danny.“ She whispered with an almost childish tone.  
    “I know all about the Matheson family.“ He let go of her arms and walked to the door.  
    “Where you going?“  
    “I didn’t create this militia to have fucking rapists in it.“ The door slammed after him leaving Charlie wide eyed. She filled another glass and took a sip to steady herself. She was shaking too much to stand up and chose to crash on the couch. She soothed her cold legs and arms with the palm of her hands. She was bewildered. All this day, she had been anticipating her going back to business as usual, or facing Monroe’s wrath. He had been furious but not at her. It would be delicious to imagine that he had been angry because Henderson had wanted to sleep with her or threatened her. But this was General Monroe she was thinking about. He was always angry at his men for not following his lead. Always struggling to keep his pack under his rule. Always suspicious. Power and Control, that was probably made him leave his bed every morning. But she was glad she didn’t have to go through the bargain anymore. With a nervous glance towards the door, she made her way to his side of the bed. She took out the pictures and looked at them again. She stopped at a picture of Monroe and Miles at a wedding. They were looking goofy and possibly drunk. Monroe’s shirt was undone and there were hints of pinks on his collar. She starred at his smiling face. She sometimes saw flashes of this genuine mirth but usually, his smiles were deadly and seeping poison. She heard a commotion on the other side of the door. She replaced the envelope in his drawer and jumped out of the bed. She was facing the fireplace when he walked in.  
    “I hope you were not too attached to Henderson. I will have to assign a new officer to your unit.“  
    “Why?“  
    “He’s dead.“ She spun around, only to face a serene faced Monroe taking off his jacket.  
    “You killed him?“  
    “I don’t tolerate disorder in my ranks.“ Charlie snorted.  
    “You can’t just shoot people just because they are doing something wrong?“  
    “Really? What should I do General Charlotte? Fuck them?“ She rolled her eyes.  
    “At this rate, you will be left with nobody to listen to your orders.“ She kicked off her shoes and padded to her side of the bed. He watched her slip off the dress. He pinched the bridge of his nose as his vision blurred when he thought about Henderson’s hands on her soft skin. Good riddance. With her back still turned to him, she tossed away her dress  and curled on the bed, on her side. She was feeling too numb or drunk to bother about getting under the covers. This whole day had been never-ending. She wanted someone to tuck her in. She only had vague memories of her parents helping her to settle for the night, nursery rhymes, but other than that, bedtime hadn’t ever been about her comfort. Monroe certainly wasn’t the type to tuck anyone in their bed. And yet, she had to wonder if Bass had been like this. She wasn't aware of his gaze traveling over her half-naked body. Without shifting his attention, he took off every item of his clothing. He failed to display his customary military discipline as his clothes scattered on the floor. In a glimpse, he was on the bed, snuggled against her back. She tensed but didn’t move. She was always the one instigating cuddling. And she was right to be hesitant, as he pulled her against his chest, she realized that he was already hard. His hands hovered on her waist and breast, smoothing the smooth skin of her thighs, and his ragged breath made her neck shiver. She flinched when his right hand grasped roughly her breast. His lips trailed on her neck, his teeth gently nipping her skin. She leaned back, her back against his chest.  
    “What made you think you could sleep with my men? Silly Charlotte.“ He unclasped her bra, shoved it away and cupped her breasts in his hands. She had trouble breathing. This jealous overbearing Monroe was making her wet and flustered. It was ridiculous to be turned on so easily. His hands and lips were everywhere, but every time she tried to turn to face him, he wouldn’t let her shift. As his hands slid down her waist, she pulled down her panties, shifted her hips higher to give him better access. One of her hand slid between her legs to tease her clitoris and the other one reached behind to touch him. He pulled back slightly and prepared to enter her. With satisfaction, he could glimpse Charlie’s branded wrist in the semi-darkness as he entered her.

  
    Charlie was breathless and almost dizzy after they were done. Each of his thrusts had left an imprint in her. They were both silent but he was still holding her close. But she had no trouble sensing the words still lingering in his warm breath as it brushed her neck.There was a triumphant glint in her eyes when she closed them. He could pretend that he didn’t care but tonight he had been jealous. Something primal had taken over the general’s aloofness. He couldn’t let go of her. Usually, she would be the one holding on to him, but tonight he had a hard time drifting to sleep or tearing his gaze away from her. Was it too late to turn around? It had started as game, a trap to bring Miles down but now he was entangled with her. The blinding rage bubbling in him when he had realized where she was going, had subsided. There was only dismay left. Dismay, that once more he was trapped into caring for someone. After Miles’ departure, he had been lulled into numbness. It may have been dangerous for those around him and under his command, but it had been almost blissful not to care. Seeing Miles again and being subjected to Charlie’s endearing spirit had scrapped away all this cottony dullness. He wasn’t a statue pervading terror and power anymore; he was a breathing and bleeding human being. She shifted closer to him in her sleep. He tensed. He breathed in the amber perfume still lingering in her hair and closed his eyes. _It won’t last_. One after the other, he had lost them all. It was comforting to know that it didn’t matter whether he cared or not. The caring, the pain will subside eventually and memories would fade away. He would go back to being the fearless careless leader the Republic needed. He buried his face in her mane and tightened his arms around her. _It won’t last._

    When Charlie woke up, Monroe was gone. Dawn was creeping in, as she climbed out of the warm bed. She staggered to the bathroom to wash up and retrieve her uniform. In a few minutes, her hair was secured, her uniform buttoned up and her mind alert. After a quick breakfast in the empty dining room, she rushed to Monroe’s office. In order to report for duty, she needed her service gun. The men guarding the doors looked forbidding but it didn’t stop her from her purpose.  
    “General’s in a meeting.“ Charlie shrugged and made her way to the double doors. She saw Major Tom Neville waiting primly in the lounge. He eyed her with a mixture of amusement and disgust. Charlie almost stopped to ask him about Jason. But, she remembered that Monroe had previously informed her of his passing. She wasn’t sure if she believed it or not, but it was certainly not the time to grill his father. As she strutted inside, she was greeted by the sight of Monroe sitting with a balding man, on a set of delicate antique armchairs. They both turned their heads towards her. Her arms were on her side, she knew she should have saluted or displayed more military respect for his rank, but it felt silly and she was scared she would dissolve in a fit of giggles. It was difficult separating the man she had sex with on his desk and the one staring coolly at her. His frown and clenched jaw was enough to let her know that he wasn’t pleased at all.  
    “General Monroe.“  
    “What do you want Charlie?“ The other man appraised her with a carefully glance. His gaze made her check that her uniform was properly buttoned up and no hair were sticking out of her bun. Her eyes focused on Monroe.  
    “I have to report back. I need my gun“ He nodded but his eyes were back on his guest.  
    “I’m being rude. Randall Flynn, this is Charlotte Matheson.“ The man flashed her a smile and nodded.  
    “Matheson? I thought as much. She does resemble Rachel a lot. Isn’t she an incentive enough?“ Monroe shrugged.  
    “Charlotte’s family isn’t really interested in getting her back.“ He looked at Charlie, his gaze lingering on the Militia armband. “And she’s not interested in going back. No. Charlie won’t make Rachel obey. I have other plans for her.“ Charlie was standing at his elbow, her gaze going from one man to the other. They were obviously discussing something pertaining to her mother and it terrified her that it didn’t make her the least bit curious. Of course, they were looking for her mother. Weren’t all Mathesons on the Monroe watch list? the General got up and walked to the other side of the room. Her gaze dropped to her feet. Monroe had retrieved her firearm from his desk and was handing it to her.  
    “Okay. So I guess, bye, and see you next time.“ She muttered as she lifted her eyes to look at him. She had wished for a kiss, for a moment with the man rather than the General but she was obviously not a priority right now. She knew that her fellow soldiers would be saying goodbye to their families or lovers. They had someone to come back to. She had nothing but the safety of the walls of Monroe’s bedroom and whatever delusions she had made up. She lifted her chin and took a deep breath. He nodded but his gaze caught hers. It was probably just a second but a rush of emotions ran through Charlie as their eyes locked. There was an intensity in his blue eyes that made her catch her breath. She wasn’t sure what he was thinking but it was worth more than a kiss and far more scalding than being branded. His voice was a rumble when he spoke again.  
    “Don’t get yourself killed Charlotte. Tell Neville I’m ready for him.“ She nodded but spared no further attention to Randall Flynn. Tom Neville didn’t look very happy that she was the one to invite him in. She could read in his eyes what he couldn’t utter. She shook her head as she walked away, it wasn’t Major Neville that was making her nervous. There was something about that Flynn guy that had crept her out. Most of the men Monroe had surrounded himself with were equally dreadful. They had demons in their eyes. She was a few feet away from the barrack when she stopped in her tracks. When had she stopped seeing Monroe as an equally, if not more, dangerous man than his subordinates? His leniency last night hadn’t been free of other motives. The manner in which he had claimed her body couldn’t be disregarded. His gentleness after shouldn’t matter that much. But it did. She had fallen asleep feeling safe, and almost wanted. And now, she felt protective of him and craving for more. She started to walk again, more briskly this time, as she tried to remind herself of his icy tone today. It was a good thing that she didn’t have to see him for a few days, maybe weeks.  Maybe, joining the Militia hadn’t been such a bad idea, after all. Being on the battlefield will help her to clear her mind.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so much time for this update. I had 2-3 different versions of these events, and I couldn't decide which one would work with the rest. Change is coming but it's subtle and slow. And, as we all know, their path is riddled with obstacles. Hope you enjoyed the chapter. Thank you once more, for the lovely comments and your support here and elsewhere. What are your thoughts on Monroe's reaction to the whole thing?


	9. Wolvish-Ravening Lamb

Monroe watched Flynn leave his office. He didn’t like the man. Something about his slimy smile, his sketchy ways or maybe it was just his obsession with the Mathesons. Stepping outside of the door, he beckoned one of the soldiers stationed in front of his office.  
    “See if Major Burton’s squadron is still around. I need to speak with Cadet Monroe.”  
     “Yes sir,“ the man nodded and rushed out.  
    Flynn had suggested he should take Charlie with him to retrieve the nuke, to rattle any potential Matheson rebels. It seemed far fetched but with Neville missing, it wouldn’t be surprising if the rebels found the factory. Monroe strode back to his desk to pour over the map, his finger tracing the route as he turned over the problem. It was the third time he was reviewing the plan but something was nagging him. He had a bad feeling about the whole operation. The factory wasn’t far, especially with the newly acquired trucks, but - he didn’t like the idea of sending Charlie there. She was still too fresh, too emotionally attached to her family. The Danny incident was evidence enough.  
    Unfortunately, though, Flynn was right. She would be the perfect distraction if any Mathesons decided to show up. He was pulled away from the sick feeling in his stomach by a knock on the door.  He barked “enter” and in came Charlie.  
    “You’re knocking now?“ She shrugged. Time and time again he had reprimanded her for her lack of decorum when they were in an official setting. But the truth was, it amused him to see her break those small rules. It was like watching a kitten trying to claw her way out of an iron box.  Sometimes, it actually hurt to keep his face so devoid of amusement but some part of him just couldn’t let her in, couldn’t let her know how her antics made him laugh or how difficult it was becoming to use her like one of his many pawns. He straightened his collar as he closed the distance between them.  
    “Yeah. Whatever. What d’you want?“ She sounded annoyed but her eyes followed his every move with interest. Nor did he miss the way they lingered on his buttons, making him remember the last time he had let her undo them.  Her fingers had been so clumsy with want he’d pushed her back onto the bed even before she’d been half finished.  His mouth was dry, voice like sandpaper, when he forced his attention back to business.  
    “I’m sending Flynn on a special mission. I want you to go with him.“ He watched her open her mouth and then close it again. “Go on. Ask me why.“  
    “Why?“  
    “You’re the distraction, in case the Mathesons show up.“ His voice grew triumphant as he noticed her eyes widen. He had made sure not to call them her family. It was high time she realized that she wasn’t one of them. But maybe he’d succeeded too well - she wasn’t looking at him anymore. Her gaze had drifted to the window and her lost face reminded him of the girl he had found on the floor, crying over her ruined childhood.   
    He’d held her in his arms then, cuddling her shaking body as she cried.  Monroe took a step towards her, the urge to comfort her overwhelming his suspicions in that instant, but then he paused. He was slipping again, letting a Matheson matter too much. His concerned face turned into a scowl as he reminded himself that right now, she wasn’t just a girl, she was his soldier. Right on queue, Charlie turned to face him again.  
    “Wait. What? What do you want me to do?“ He watched her wring her hands and tried to ignore how her discomfort made him feel.  This wasn’t personal. This couldn’t be personal. Except for the part where you’re already counting the steps to your desk, or even better, the bedroom, his conscience jeered. Or the other part, that wanted her to stay close, shielding him from his own bitter thoughts.   
    “Dance naked. What do you think? You’re a soldier Charlotte. You know what you’ve got to do.“ They were standing face to face. His gaze travelled from her joined hands to her lips and eyes. He was looking for the right words to convince her to follow his lead, this time. Her posture was rigid just like the perfect soldier should be, her face blank but the rebellious spark in her eyes mesmerized him. He shook his head.  
    “I want to make something clear…“  
    “I know. I’m not going to help them.”  
    “Right. Of course you won’t. And you know why?“ He circled her wrists in his hands, feeling the brand under his thumb, caressing it, resisting the urge to bring it to his mouth. His voice was low, almost a growl. “They are never going to forgive you for choosing to stay and joining the Militia.” She pulled her hands away but he refused to let her break his hold. He could see in her eyes that she was angry at him for saying those words. But it wasn’t enough.  
    “Trust me Charlotte. You’ve known them for how long? Five minutes?  I’ve known them my whole life. Mathesons use the word family only when it’s convenient for them. You’re nothing to them.“ As soon as he spoke those words, he remembered where they had come from: Miles. It made his blood run cold. He let go of Charlie, almost pushing her away.  Damn Mathesons.  
    Charlie rubbed her wrists as she shot him a forlorn look.  “Do you think I don’t know that? I’m not stupid. Yeah, sure I helped Danny but - it’s not like he was happy to see me.“ Her voice wavered and he wanted to believe her, but it wasn’t enough for him.   
    His eyes searched hers, looking for the reassurance she refused to give him out loud. He couldn’t let her go without being sure of her compliance. She didn’t cower from his intense gaze, almost rolling her eyes at him, the impertinent wench.  But her voice was low and serious when she spoke.  
    “I’m not going to help them or run off.“ Her voice was firm now, “but not because you’re asking me.“ She would have continued but he interrupted.  
    “I don’t really care about your reasons, Charlotte.  This is your last chance.”  To his ears, his words were as unconvincing as hers. But he knew that was all the assurance he would get, unless he decided to use harsher methods.  And damn that traitor of a voice that was chanting about soft, slow, delicious ones, and how much more effective they might be.   
    “Don’t deceive me, Charlotte.  As soldiers go, you are very much dispensable,” he warned, telling himself it wasn’t a lie.  All soldiers were dispensable.  
    “Am I? Then why am I getting a pep talk? Sounds like someone’s freaked out,“ Charlie fired back, suddenly bristling with hostility. She stepped closer to him to make her point, chin high, shoulders squared, eyes flashing, and her gaze on his lips.   He knew immediately what she was up to, but fuck if he didn’t find calculating, manipulative Charlie ridiculously sexy.  And that fact that she was far from unaffected … he heard her breath stutter and his eyes slammed back to hers, glittering with lust and aggression.  The desire to forget his scheme and make a good use of all that pent up tension was suddenly overwhelming.  
    Charlie took the decision out of his hands, clearly thinking that she had won the argument. Her lips crashed against his, her tongue darting inside his mouth, her familiar sweetness fraying the last threads of his control. He pulled her closer, feeling the softness of her breasts squash against his chest, and the sharp pleasure of her fingers twisting his curls as he deepened the kiss, drinking in the little noises she made as she banged their hips together, rubbing herself against his straining cock. He pulled back for air but she barely let him take a breath, her teeth grazing his lower lip as she panted, tongue licking at the corner of his mouth as if desperate for his taste. He found her eagerness intoxicating right up until he caught a glimpse of the triumph in her eyes.   
    “Sounds like someone thinks she’s actually a soldier,” he whispered breathlessly. His eyes never leaving hers, he took a step back. “When she’s nothing but a whore wearing my uniform.“ In a flash, her hand was raised to strike him but he caught her wrist before she managed to slap him. He ignored the tears in her eyes and how they made his heart tug. As soon as he noticed them, they were replaced by a lustful glare.   
    They were both breathing hard, their gazes burning holes in one another.  He leaned forward to brush his lips over hers - a taunt he told himself, or maybe a goodbye -  his hands falling to her waist. Charlie deepened the kiss and bit his bottom lip, forcing him to slap her ass, hard, before sliding his hand underneath to scratch his nails along the seams of her uniform.  The merciless tease left her gasping into his mouth, begging, and he was walking her towards the antique sofa behind them when a knock on the door startled them apart.   
    He had to move behind his desk to recover his equilibrium, all the while cursing the intrusion. Damn Flynn. Damn Georgia. Charlotte, meanwhile, seemed determined to make him pay for whatever it was he had said earlier.  She’d blasted them from his memory, but her eyes were still furious as she licked him off her lips, and straightened up her creased uniform, hands lingering longer than needed on her breasts. He gestured towards the door.  
    “You should get going, Cadet Monroe.“  If his voice was rougher than he’d intended it to be, there were any number of reasons for it.     
    He saw the way her jaw clenched in frustration, or fury, or something like that before she smiled coolly, then made her way out without a backward glance.

  
    Monroe watched from the window as Flynn and his escort prepared to leave, Charlie’s golden hair managing to catch the sun even in its tight Militia-approved braid. His knuckles whitened on the windowsill as he fought the urge to cancel the orders, to fly down there and drag her back to safety.   
    No.  She had been trained for this purpose, he reminded himself.  Miles’ precious niece had been turned into a Militia soldier thanks to the training created by Miles himself.  He scrubbed his hand over his curls, trying to convince himself it was fitting. He was sending her to help secure the future of the Republic.   
    As his hand tried to massage away the pain in his head, he dared to consider the thought that had been nagging him all morning: how he wished Charlotte wasn’t Charlie Matheson. Of all the girls in the Republic, the first one he’d wanted by his side had to be Miles’ niece. He groaned aloud as he let himself entertain his worst suspicion.  She might even be Miles’ daughter.    
    He wanted to protect her, but just by being a Matheson she had to be, yet another weapon and possibly collateral damage, this very idea made his shoulders slump and his knees weak. There could have been time for Bass Monroe to dwell on this but he was General Monroe. His hands fell to his side as he straightened up.  
Soon, the Monroe Republic would have a nuclear bomb. And then, Georgia and the rebels would have no choice but to submit to the Republic. Monroe sighed as he peered through the window. Charlie was looking pensive. Was she thinking about him? More likely, Monroe frowned, about what he’d said. _Don’t deceive me Charlotte._  
    Miles, as always, was in the back of his head. “Family,” Monroe said aloud, opening the wound afresh.  He had been betrayed far too many times by the Mathesons.  He’d felt her cuddle into him in the night often enough to know there were too many things that lay unspoken between himself and Charlotte, but trust wasn’t something that came easy to him anymore. Certainly not with anyone related to Miles.  
    Please don’t deceive me, he silently begged the girl below.  
  
     Charlie raised her eyes towards the window, as if she could see him. Could she feel his gaze on her? Or was she considering screwing him over?  He peered more closely at her expression but there was no help there, just the perfect oval of a face that had no right to be so goddamn beautiful.  Another soldier called to Charlie, startling her out of her thoughts, and Monroe watched hungrily as she shook her head slightly, turned away, and climbed slowly in the truck. He watched them drive out. It took him a few minutes before he was able to force himself away from the window and back to his paperwork.  
   
    Monroe’s persuasive words were echoing in Charlie’s head. He couldn’t be right. Her family might be outraged  about her being in the Militia, but they wouldn’t turn their back on her. She looked out of the window, trying to believe that being related to someone meant something but she was soon distracted by the new experience of being in a moving vehicle. She could hardly focus on a house or even a man on a horse. She couldn’t tell if the truck was going really fast but it seemed to her that time was speeding.  The mesmerizing movement was making it hard to focus on her thoughts. She looked at her hands as she tried to make up her mind about her family. They had never come to find her, and they had never looked back.  Maybe Monroe was right: they had turned their back on her and she would be a fool to not do the same thing.   
    Charlie was gnawing at her lower lip under Flynn’s scrutiny. He smiled and broke the silence.  
    “I knew your parents very well. And you too. You were just a toddler. A very curious toddler.“ His voice sounded nice but something didn’t match his smile. Charlie nodded tensely. There were questions bubbling inside of her but he made her skin crawl with this appearance of benevolence.  
    “I always thought you’d make a great scientist, just like your parents. But it seems that you have chosen another path.“ It took Charlie all her willpower not to snort. Flynn’s smile widened.   
        “There’s still time, I guess.“ She evaded his gaze and turned her attention outside. She didn’t like the way he was looking at her, as if he knew exactly who she was and what she was doing. If she had to categorize him, he would be in the Drexel column. She understood Monroe even when he was at his cruelest but this man? He was beyond her ability to comprehend.   
    Good or bad, he was in the Monroe Republic team now,  and she was stuck with him, Charlie told herself. The moving landscape was making her feel jittery, and she wanted nothing more than to get out, and flee in the opposite direction. They must be nearing the warehouse. Her mind was replaying Monroe’s words. He hadn’t yelled but she knew he meant business when he said it was her last chance. The truck was moving too fast, she wasn’t ready.   
  
    When they arrived at the factory, Charlie took in the surroundings warily. She didn’t notice anything amiss but she crossed her fingers she wouldn’t have to face her family. She followed Flynn and the other soldiers inside. Most of the factory was a mess and covered in dust but the lab was well preserved. A scientist was waiting for them along with a few items that Charlie couldn’t recognize. She was handed a briefcase that she considered curiously.   
    “What’s that? Some kind of medicine?“ Of course, Monroe wouldn’t be making such a big deal for a few pills and tablets. But what else could be made in labs? Drugs? Or maybe chemicals? Flynn ushered her outside and answered her in an impatient voice.  
    “I was told soldiers didn’t ask questions Miss Matheson.“ Charlie made a face but followed the group outside. They loaded the seemingly precious items inside. They were barely done securing the briefcases when she heard gunfire. “Rebels,” she heard, and “it’s Matheson!” and even in their shouts she could hear the fear in their voices.  As she prepared her rifle and found cover, the name beat a tattoo in her head.  Matheson.  Matheson.  Matheson.    
    She barely noticed Flynn’s vehicle speeding away as her unit dug in, Major Phillips determined to make a stand.  “Fire at will!”  
    Charlie had to fight the bile rising. Every shadow could be a Matheson and she could be their killer. Her hands were shaking but she knew she needed to hold her ground.  
    “Hey Monroe! Behind the car!“  Even now, with her mind shrilling Matheson, she recognises Monroe as just the latest in her series of aliases.  It didn’t make her cringe so much anymore. A name is nothing but a series of sounds. She moved to obey, but as she turned around her gaze fell on a husky teenager with a mop of bright blonde hair: Danny. Her brother looked dumbstruck, his mouth open but no sound was coming out, and his face white with shock. Like the last time they had crossed path in the midst of a battle, he uttered her name.  
    “Charlie?“  He was within arms length. Part of her wanted to reach for him but she could also see the horror in his eyes crying that she was a monster. The same monsters she used to protect him from when they were children. His hand was on the trigger but he wasn’t aiming at her, yet. Her own hands started to shake.  
    That was it. The moment she had feared for so long, her heart beating too fast, each thud painful in the brittle cage of her chest. He may be her brother but he was a rebel, and she was a Militia soldier. She belonged to the Monroe Republic. Didn’t she?   
    Charlie aimed at Danny, but he was too close. She took a step back and aimed again but her fingers were shaking too much. They were only shielded by the remains of a car but sounds and fury of the gun battle around them had somehow faded.  She couldn’t focus on anything other than her brother. His eyes held the same accusation as in that cell when he had asked her if she was sleeping with Monroe. But this time, his brilliant eyes seemed to know the answer, dark with what looked like anger and revulsion.  
    She heard another of the vehicle speed away and Major Philips calling her.  
    “Monroe! We’re leaving.” Charlie looked over her shoulder to where her fellow soldiers were scrambling into the trucks. But her fingers wouldn’t move. She couldn’t shoot Danny. He was just a boy, her little brother. All her training was making her hands twitch but she could barely breathe. She didn’t have to hurt Danny. She took a deep breath. Monroe hadn’t said anything about killing her family. Danny’s face was breaking her heart. She turned around and started to make her way to the others.   
    “What.. What did he call you?“ His shout startled her. She risked another glance over her shoulder. Danny’s hands were shaking now, and he was also struggling to breathe. “Asthma,” she thought as she pivoted towards him, already reaching for him. That was another monster they had struggled against together, in the dead of night. Her brother had always needed her. Her eyes spotted some movement behind Danny, and she responded without thinking, raising her rifle to track the enemy fighter. She had been trained to be ready to shoot her enemies but she had spent many more years taking care of her brother. The battle in her mind was making her dizzy.  
    “Danny, take cover!“ She knew that this voice belonged to Miles, who clearly thought she was threat. Well, Monroe would be happy to know that his message was received loud and clear, she thought bitterly. A shot was fired.  
    Her first thought was for her brother and an anguished cry escaped her lips. “Oh no! Danny!“ But Danny was still standing on the same spot without a scratch. She turned her gaze to the stragglers hurrying to the trucks. Nothing seemed amiss save for Major Phillips  pointing at her but she couldn’t hear his words over the roaring in her ears. Charlie frowned as her hand rubbed her leg, it was wet. Her dizziness had grown worse, making her stagger. She looked down in disbelief and realized blood was seeping out of her thigh.  Her hands went limp, her vision dark and her gun clattered to the ground.   
    “Oh no, Danny! No!“ She had been shot by her own brother.  
    Arms came around her, and she fought them, striking blindly as they tried to drag her to a vehicle. But the hole in her leg was gushing blood now, and the world was shrinking to a tunnel in blackness.  
    “We have to hurry. Monroe will have our head.“ She didn’t pay any attention to the soldiers carrying her away. All she could see was the betrayal  and confusion in Danny’s sweet face before the shot was fired. And why wouldn’t he feel this way? She had aligned herself with the Republic that he loathed and the man that he wanted to destroy. She had done it this time. The remnant of her life was ablaze and she could only watch it burn down. Family was one more thing that had been stolen from her. Her sense of helplessness fueled her anger as she vowed that next time she would shoot first. She muttered again.  
    “No, Danny.“  
    Charlie sunk into a dark swoon as the militia swarmed around her.  “She’s losing too much blood,” she heard, but she wasn’t there. She was back in her family home before the Blackout happened. She was watching a cartoon. It seemed so real. The taste of ice cream melting in her mouth. Her parent’s frightened face. Danny’s toddler babble. She was safe, she was home. She wasn’t grown up. She wasn’t a soldier. She wasn’t a prostitute. She was Charlie Matheson, safe and happy and loved, the daughter of Ben and Rachel Matheson.   
    But the minute she thought that, her house disappeared.  They were on the run, a voice calling her through the thickets and brambles.  Monroe. It was Monroe, and her parents were pushing her away.  She was Charlie Matheson, the orphan girl. Someone was pointing a gun at her. Some hungry vagrant. His face changed to Danny’s. Tears trickled down her face as she pleaded with him, but he laughed, and when she looked again, it was Monroe. “Come on. You knew it’d happen. You can’t trust them.“   
    Charlie yelled, angry, and tried to push him away but her arms were powerless. There was a pain throbbing in her leg. It grew, engulfing her. and even Monroe’s brilliant blue eyes receded.  
  
    She woke up in a small cot. Curtains were drawn around her bed and she felt numb. Her leg was burning and a nurse was waving a cloth under her nose. The sweetish orangey smell made her want to puke, but she felt too tired and heavy to manage it. She could feel them rush around her, gentle hands pressing on her wound and someone smoothing her hair.  
    “It’s okay, sweetie. We’re taking care of you. Relax.“ And relax she did, closing her eyes once more.  
  
    Cadet Morales’ day had been nightmare: first the attack on the factory and now he had been chosen to be the bearer of bad news to the General. His stomach was growling, nerves always made him hungry. Didn’t stop him from wanting to throw up as he was ordered inside the office.   
    The General was staring out the window, and Morales waited for him to turn around before forcing his arm into a salute, then handing him the report. He couldn’t help but shift his weight from one leg to the other as Monroe read. Flynn hadn’t bothered showing up and the senior militia officer had found a pretext to avoid this encounter. It didn’t take a genius to know why he had been sent instead. Now that the Matheson and Monroe showdown wasn’t fresh news anymore, the General’s strange relationship with his captive turned soldier was the talk of the Militia. And nobody wanted to face his wrath. Morales could make a list of all the things he’d rather do but stand here and break the news.  
    “Everything went smoothly?“ Monroe didn’t even bother to glance at the cadet, so sure he was of the answer. Morales’ breath stuck in his throat and he had to cough a few times before answering. His display caught the attention of the General.  
     “Five wounded and a few dead, Sir,“ his voice wavered.  Monroe’s sudden gaze was so intense Morales unwittingly took a step back as he tried to muster the courage to speak again.  
    “The girl. Cadet... Cadet Monroe got shot.“  
    “What?“ Monroe’s eyes narrowed and nostrils flared. The cadet took another step back.      
    “She was shot in the thigh. They are taking care of her at the medical center.“   
    Monroe nodded but his attention wasn’t on the messenger anymore. His clenched his jaw and frowned as he tried to make sense of the chaos in his mind. He should have been used to receiving bad news by now, he lectured himself.  But it still made his heart skip a beat and made him feel like he was staggering at the edge of a dark ravine.  
    “Leave.“ The young man nodded and swiftly made his exit. Monroe didn’t spare him a glance. She was going to be alright. And yet, he could feel guilt rising in waves over him. He had too often been the instrument of doom. Hadn’t he been the one who suggested to his sisters to have a family night out to watch Harry Potter? The one who had happily gotten Shelly pregnant. There were too many civilian casualties he was responsible for, both before the blackout and after. Then, Miles had blamed him for turning dark.  
    Monroe scrubbed his face with his hand. He’d never dealt well with loneliness. It had always awoken the ghosts of so many regrets. He straightened his shoulders and stood tall as he made his way out of his office, refusing to surrender to the ghosts.  But he didn’t notice the faces around him or his guards either side as he bolted out of his headquarters, busy debating with himself.  
    Charlie wasn’t a seasoned fighter. She was good, or so he heard. But she shouldn’t have been sent in this mission. Flynn’s idea had seemed so seductive and right. But Monroe had obviously been wrong to trust his counsel. Charlie shouldn’t have been there.  
  
    The staff of the medical center gaped at him as he stormed into their midst. There was a time when the President of the Monroe Republic often visited the wounded soldiers to thank them for their sacrifice. But since General Matheson had left his administration, Monroe no longer visited.  
    “Where’s the girl?“ he barked, ignoring everyone else.  
    A nurse led him to a bed in a corner. The stench of blood and chemicals were thick in the air. He could hear moans and even screams but Charlie was silent. She was lying straight on the cot. Her face was pale, her hair matted with dirt and blood. He stepped closer and let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding: she was still alive.   
    “The bullet missed the femoral artery but she lost a lot of blood,” the nurse quickly explained, seeing his concern.  
    “Can she be moved?“ The nurse shot him a wary look, as if the question was confusing.  
    “This place breeds infection. I want her in the presidential manor,“ he snapped, no longer caring about their protocols.  
    A doctor quickly joined them to assure the President that yes, of course, the young soldier could be transferred to Independence Hall.  Spineless, Monroe thought, and not a patch on the nurse who still looked worried.  
    Monroe’s hand itched to touch Charlie’s tear stained cheek, but he kept them jammed in his pockets. He was General Monroe. His request to have her moved was telling enough. He didn’t need the medical staff gossiping about his obsession with this girl.  
    “Make it fast.“ Without glancing back at Charlie, he left the center.  
  
    Charlie’s eyelids fluttered, they felt heavy. She stared at the ceiling, wondering where she was until she recognized the dusty fan. A nurse was changing the dressing on her leg. Charlie tried to speak but only a groan came out.  
    “Would you like some water?“ She nodded slowly. She gulped a few sips. It felt like silk in her burning throat. The nurse moved away and Charlie noticed his silhouette in the flickering firelight. He turned around and crept closer as the nurse left the room. He was unshaven and there were bags under his eyes. It made him look more fierce, and endlessly world weary.  
    “Welcome back Charlotte.“  
    “Hey.“ She croaked. She tore her gaze away from his, and scrunched her face as she tried to remember the events that had brought her here. Tears pooled in her eyes as the images flashed in her mind: Danny’s shocked face, his eyes full of rage, his mouth agape and the deafening shot she hadn’t fired.  When her attention shifted back to him, he was standing at arm's reach.  
    “They told me the rebels shot you…?“ Her breath caught in her throat. He searched her face with a concerned look.  
    “The meds aren’t working?“  
    “I’m okay.“ She muttered but she felt far from it. There was no going back to her family now. This man was the only one who seemed to vaguely care about her. And, what a loyal friend! It was true what they said: in the end, you are always alone. You are born alone and you die alone. The rest is only voices and faces that eventually fade away. She needed to say the words aloud. She needed to acknowledge what had happened.  
    “It was Danny. I couldn’t shoot him but he didn’t have a problem with it.“ The tears trickled out of her eyes to her parched lips.  He laughed. She shot him an indignant look but he barely suppressed his amusement.  
    “You really are Mini-Miles. You choked. But Danny? Now he’s Rachel all the way.“ He filled the glass on her bedside table and offered her some water, she turned her face away.  
    “Don’t take it personally Charlotte.I told you about how the Mathesons family works.“ He replaced the glass on the nightstand.  “Just, next time, try to shoot first.“ She huffed. It was a stupid to have told him. Of course, he was gloating. That was all that he was good at. Well, that and consoling heartbroken hookers. As if on cue, his fingers brushed her cheek. She tensed and turned to face him. There was pity in his stormy eyes. It made her flush.  
    “It’s your fault. He heard your men calling me Monroe.“ He laughed again but there was no amusement in his chortle.  
    “Right. Here comes the usual refrain. By all means, do blame me, Charlotte. Don’t blame Danny boy who pulled the trigger.“  He leaned to whisper in her ear, his stubble scratching against her tear stained cheek. “But don’t forget who’s taking care of you now. I don’t see any Mathesons around.“  
    Charlie shuffled away from him and he straightened up with a jerk.  She wanted to curl on her side but it was difficult with her leg. Instead, she laid on her back, her eyes following each cracks on the ceiling and trying to make shapes out of them, refusing to look at him. She heard him walk away and out of the room. The door slammed, the lock turned.   
  
    Charlie straightened up against the headboard. Her leg didn’t hurt that much anymore. She had grown used to the dull pain but she hated to think what it would have felt like without the pain medication. She was feeling slightly woozy but her mind was alert enough to remind her of all the mistakes she had made. She looked around to see if there were crutches or something to help her move about. Nothing. With a grimace, she sat up and looked at her right leg to inspect the damage. She chewed her lip as she considered her bandaged leg. Thoughts were racing in her head and the drugs were not strong enough to erase the fact that her baby brother had shot her. She desperately needed something to make her forget.  
    Her eyes drifted to the bar. It wasn’t that far, was it? Could she manage to hobble there by holding the wall and the furniture? She considered the distance. Once, she had been beaten so badly that she had had to crawl to the door to find help. It hadn’t taken her long to learn that no matter the pain, she could always find a way to survive. It was the first time she had been shot, though. Gingerly, she slid her left foot on the floor and leaned on the adjacent wall. By mistake, she put some weight on her right leg and the pain shot through her. There was blood seeping out of the bandage.  
     “Damn.“ She looked again towards the bar. She really needed that drink. Leaning against the wall, she reached for a chair as she limped forward. Sweat broke out on her forehead and back. She was too dizzy to continue her journey. She collapsed on the chair. It wasn’t very comfortable and blood was trickling out of the bandages. It had seemed such a great idea at the time. She closed her eyes. Maybe Danny hadn’t meant it? Maybe it was an accident? The rifle had dropped and he had reached for it in the wrong way? She drifted off in some kind of reverie  
  
    She was moving or rather, someone was moving her. She opened her eyes. The nurse was trying to get her back to the bed.  
    “Lean on me.“ Charlie happily obliged. When she was returned to the bed. The nurse shook her head. “You should rest. You lost a lot of blood. “ She was changing the dressing. “It’s a good thing you were with someone who knew what to do or you would have bled out very fast. Don’t push your luck, young lady. We gave you some blood when you arrived at the infirmary but we might not find another donor in time. You have to take it easy.“    
    “I need a drink.“ The nurse’s eyebrows shot up as she shook her head.  
    “You need rest.“  
    “I can’t stop thinking.“  
    “It must be some leftover adrenaline. “   
    Doreen, the nurse, surveyed her supply of medication. She had been told to spare nothing for this girl. She should have come check her before. If the rumours were true and she was indeed Miles Matheson’s niece, well.  She’d treated General Matheson a time or two.  She was probably as stubborn as he was when it came to bed rest.  And alcohol. Pursing her lips, Doreen let out the disapproving breath with a long sigh.  The fact that the poor girl  was tucked up in General Monroe’s bed told a million stories she didn’t want to think about.  Maybe she really did need something to help her sleep. But she needed to eat first.  
    The salty soup didn’t taste very good, and Charlie certainly wasn’t hungry, but the nurse - Doreen, she’d introduced herself as - had promised to give her something to take the edge off if she ate first. And right now, all she needed was escape. So, soup.   
    “Here. This will knock you out.“ The woman watched as Charlie downed the pills with a gulp of water. Slumber came gently as the warm rays of sun melted into dusk. When she woke up again, Monroe was snoring at her side, and she needed to pee.  Great.  
  
    She lit a candle and was relieved to see a pair of crutches leaning against the wall.  She was glad that the fire was still giving enough light to make her way to the bathroom, The gas lighting in the small corridor was enough to light the bathroom as she left the door open.It would have been awkward to wake Monroe up. Her thigh was feeling numb but her her knee was swelling. Groggily she made her way back to the bedroom. Monroe was sitting up under the covers.  
    “You should have woken me up.“  
    “Seriously? Waking up General Monroe… The president of the Republic because little old me needed to pee?“ She rolled her eyes.  
    “Very funny. How’s the leg?“ She grimaced as she sat down.  
    “Weird. Is it supposed to swell?“ He nodded. He had seen his fair share of gunshot wounds. She could have bled out. Just like Shelly. He scrubbed his hair back and closed his eyes. He couldn’t go back on that road. The guilt was waiting in the shadows, waiting to jump in and eat him alive. She was a soldier. If she had died, it would just be another casualty in this bitter war to keep the Republic safe. That was it. Only, it wasn’t true and it was becoming tiring to pretend otherwise. He had always cared too much. That was his problem.   
    Charlie carefully placed one leg after the other on the bed and leaned into the pillow.  
    “Damn.“ She had forgotten to blow out the candle. She didn’t have the energy to sit up and go through the motions. Wordlessly, he leaned over her to blow it out. He settled against her left side, his faces an inch away from hers. His hand brushed her bare arms, making her shiver.  
    “You’re right. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have sent you there.“ She stilled but didn’t look at him. It was only the dark that he whispered words like this. Was it his fault? It would be blissful to blame him, keeping Danny safe from any smudge.  
    “You’re not the one who pulled the trigger. I think it was an accident.“ They were silent for a few minutes. Monroe’s hand was lingering over hers, not quite touching it but she could feel his warmth spread on each of her fingers. He was silent but she spoke again.  
    “It just happened. It’s nobody’s fault.“ She raised her fingers to lace them with his, pulling his hand over hers. Her cold fingers and skin jolted him. He gently pulled her closer to him. The dance between them was always the same. He would push her away, she would kick him away. He would reach for her and she would pull him closer. Over and over again. Their silences were full of intimacy and both of them knew that no amount of threats and rejection held any weight. They were stuck together.  
    “You should blame me, Charlotte.“ His voice was hoarse. She turned her face to try to read his expression in the semi-darkness.  Self-loathing. That was a strange guise for this mighty man.  
    “You’re right. It’d be easier for both of us, but it wouldn’t be true.“ She sounded exhausted. He wanted to argue, to make her angry and lash out but she had just made it out of the woods. It was nice to have her back, oddly comforting to feel her body against his in the depth of the night. If only she wasn’t a Matheson… if only his ghosts would leave him alone. He couldn’t think about them each and every time she poked at his scars. They were gone. Dust. Charlie was here, alive, breathing and he had almost lost her because of his scheming.  
    “I’m glad you didn’t die Charlotte.“ He surprised himself by saying the words out loud. But she was probably asleep. He closed his eyes and didn’t see her hers flicker open. She laid very still as his body relaxed and he went back to sleep. She was aware of the way he was holding her closer and hadn’t pulled his hand away. Which man was the real one? The one who whispered in the night or the one who made sure to train her to become a weapon to be used against her own family?   
    She wanted to believe he was the first one: the one who cared in spite of her name, the one who clung to her like she was a life vest, the one who made her feel safe. He was always there, right at the edge of his blue eyes, hiding under that commanding presence. No doubt, she was fool for believing but - she was a survivor.  And one had to believe in something or someone in order to survive, Charlie told herself.   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the time you had to wait for this update. But I can assure you that you won't have to wait that long for the next chapter.
> 
> I'm so grateful for your support here and on Tumblr. I don't know how to express how very grateful I am: Thank you. Your comments and messages really helped me. It's so heart-warming to know that people are reading your story and care to know what happens next.
> 
> Last but not least: Thank you JaqofSpades for your patient and thorough beta-ing.
> 
> The title of the chapter is taken from Romeo and Juliet (Shakespeare) Act 3, Scene 2.


	10. Matheson for the save

 The next morning, Monroe offered to help her to the dining room as she was still learning to use crutches. The nurse had come to check on her while he was in the bathroom and advised her to try to move from time to time, without doing too much. Her attempt to reach the dining room on her own showed her exactly why.  Fighting with the crutches on the slippery floor was exhausting, and her feet grew clumsy.  She stumbled, falling straight into Monroe’s arms, almost immediately after she had told him off for hovering. Charlie glowered for a long minute before she joined him in laughing at the irony, and he still had a grin on his face as he led her to the breakfast table.  
    It leached away as he started to read the pile of reports that he devoured with his breakfast, and he left in a hurry, attention already flown.  It shouldn’t have hurt, Charlie told herself.  It didn’t.  
  
    Charlie spent the day trying to get used to the crutches. Doreen came to help her clean up and give her more medicine. She was told that it would probably take her one to three months to get over this wound. Three long months. And even then, it wasn't guaranteed that she would be able to walk and run like before. On the bright side, she didn’t have to go back to the front, but even that left her in two minds.  She had gotten used to being outside and feeling vaguely useful. She had no desire to spend three months waiting for Monroe, solely as entertainment.  
    Charlie stopped in front of the massive dresser. She peered inside the first drawer. It was filled with a neat row of uniform shirts. Impatiently, she slammed it closed and hobbled to the bed. As she sat down, she tried to understand why she was so irritated. Those shirts reminded her of her own uniform and how it felt to wear it. Having spent time as a soldier had changed the nature of their relationship and how she saw herself.  It had given her skills and a place to belong, if he could only let her go.  But he wanted to hold on, to keep his bedmate and admire his pretty soldier girl, and once, she might have been happy with that.  But she wanted more now.  Especially when she saw glimpses of that other man, the one who whispered softly in the night.  
    Her eyes darted to Monroe’s bedside table. She couldn’t resist the urge. He could come back any minute but she needed to see that picture of him and Miles. Avidly, she looked at young Monroe’s face and replaced the photograph in the envelope and back in the drawer. It was useless. She couldn’t escape her thoughts about how she hated his behaviour sometimes.  
    He still didn’t treat her as an equal. She had never seen him treat anyone like an equal except for that brief moment with Miles, deadly twins staring each other down at the power plant. Most of the time, he let her speak her mind, even when she was bordering insolence. Sometimes she wondered if he actually enjoyed her remarks. But he didn’t respect her enough to give her the freedom to come and go as she pleased. Since that fateful day Drexel had taken her into his fold, she hadn’t been given this respect by anyone. And now, she was starting to realize that it was the most essential thing in the world. Men and women around her, all had this basic right. Charlie could see it in their eyes. She reached for her crutches and decided to exercise some more. Inactivity was driving her crazy.  
  
    During her Militia days, she had often wandered into town, but since her injury, he had gotten back into the habit of locking the door. As if she could leave town on crutches, clad only in a shirt that barely covered her backside, Charlie giggled as she trudged from the bedroom to the dining room for the fifth time that day. He was afraid of her leaving him. She stopped in her tracks and almost lost her balance.   
    Her life had always been lived in the shadow of someone else: her mother was the first, Danny’s difficult nights, her father’s gaze wandering to a woman that wasn’t her mother, Drexel and now Monroe. It felt normal to live her life as a reaction to someone else. But now that she couldn’t even stand on her own, it made her angry.   
    Living by another’s leave was not how other people lived. It would certainly wouldn’t have been what she would have picked if she had had any choice in the matter. But what did Charlie want? Not Charlie Matheson, nor Charlotte or Izzy but Charlie? She chased the question around and around until the early evening when she finally collapsed on the bed. Her arms were aching and she was sick of those precious crutches and the endless loop in her mind. She didn’t know what she wanted, only what she didn’t. And it was the first time she had ever had the time to even wonder for a few hours. What a bitter luxury.  
  
      
  
    She was dozing off when Monroe stalked into the bedroom. Her eyes flew open and she barely had the time to register the rage etched in his face. Her fright had her jumping out of bed and reaching for her crutches but he was already pressing her back against the wall.  
    “Did you know?“  Her hand was still around one of the crutches. When she didn’t answer he asked again, louder.  
    “Did you know that your little friend was alive?”  
    “I have no fucking idea what you’re talking about.“  
    “Tom’s boy. Jason Neville.“  
    “No!“ But he didn’t let her go. Her left leg was growing tired of holding her whole body’s weight. “I said no! Damn it!“  
    “But you know something.“ She sighed. His bullshit detector, as he often called it, was on and she had no doubt he could read the truth in her eyes.  
    “Get off me! My leg is killing me.“ He blanched slightly as he helped her to sit on the bed but his hand still hovered over his gun. His other hand was around her elbow as he waited to hear what she had to tell.  
    “I ran into him just before he left. He told me he was leaving.“ She observed him carefully before continuing her confession. He looked calmer but he wasn’t budging. She used her softest voice.  
    “He wanted me to come with him. He was joining the rebellion.“ She let let it sink before she added, “I promised not to tell you.“ She massaged her left leg, the muscles sore from dragging her injured leg around all day. His gaze followed her hands and a flash of concern made him lower his gaze. He sat down next to her.  
    “Why?“  
    “Why the hell not?“ She didn’t like being interrogated and it made her temper flare.  
    “You wanted to protect him.“  
    “Not exactly.. He wanted a new life. He was trapped here and wanted to follow his convictions. In spite of what he did to me, I didn’t want him to pay the price.”  
    Monroe looked puzzled. She remembered how he had tried to find out what ties were linking her with Jason. It was such a long time ago. Back then, he hadn’t even known her real name. They were beyond all of this. Jason was the least of her problems.  
    “What he did?“ His voice was sharp but his face had relaxed. She kept her hands by her side, fighting against the urge to hold him. When he was angry, he seldom wanted anyone to touch him before he was calm. Unless they were having sex. That was another story. Maybe her hands could be useful in another way? But she decided against it. The last time she had tried to use sex as a weapon was before the mission. Right now, the last thing on her mind was sex.  
    “Remember? Failed elopement? Drexel whipped me for that.“ He nodded grimly but his eyes were still burning into hers. He wanted the whole story.  
    “I didn’t tell you because I’m not a snitch… And because I didn’t want to be like him.“   
Monroe was silent, his jaw clenched and his eyes shift to his gun. When he spoke again, his voice was so low she had to lean closer to hear him. “Neville and his wife have gone to ground. And Burke is dead.“ His eyes rested on Charlie and she knew she wasn’t on solid footing anymore.  
     
    “I shot him.“ He paused as he drank in her pale face and glittering eyes. “And now you’re telling me you knew all along. How can I trust you? At every turn you lie to me.“ Monroe could feel the cold comfort of his handgun under his palm, the blistering rage that had fuelled him earlier turning into a cold and bitter disgust for all his supposed friends and allies.   
    This is it, thought Charlie. This was how their story had started and how it must end. She had asked him to kill her. And now he was finally going to do it. He raised the gun and even though she was shivering, Charlie kept her eyes on his. She wasn’t about to beg and she wouldn’t run away.   
    Monroe took a deep breath. She looked almost at peace. Charlie had this suicidal bravery, this absence of the fear of death that he had always admired.  “You knew I’d find out eventually. And you covered for him. “  He winced inside as he heard his own voice, louder with every angry word.  Charlie shuddered and lowered her gaze. Even now, she wasn’t pleading with him or kissing his ass like Burke. She was her own creature, fully self-contained and refusing to bow her head to anyone else’s bluster.  It was magnificent.  
  
    Charlie wasn’t feeling brave or even suicidal. She was just frozen in place. It would be foolish to try to get away. A few months ago, she would have used sex to distract him. But things had changed. She had changed. And her leg certainly didn’t make her feel like a seductress.   
  
    She chose honesty.  
  
    “I don’t really get it either. I don’t know. I just… I almost told you that day but I couldn’t. I’ve hated him for a long time and sometimes I still do.“ She was struggling to get the words out under his scrutiny and the barrel of his gun but she owed him this. “But I’m glad I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want to be like him. I didn’t want him to suffer because of me. I lied to you but only because there was no other way around it.“   
    He was looking at her with a fascinated expression, as if she were a rare breed of insect behaving in a totally unexpected manner. He lowered the gun and shook his head in disbelief, completely destabilized.  
    “Charlotte…“  
    “Yeah, yeah.  I know - you’ve got a gun in my face and I’m supposed to behave.  But I think…“ she hesitated. He’d lowered the gun, almost as if embarrassed by it, but it didn’t mean she was safe. “I think you can’t force people to follow you.“   
  
    There was a deafening silence as he took in her words, eyes glued to the brand on her wrist.  
    “You can shoot me if you want but I’m not going to apologize for this,” she said, throat so dry her voice was little more than a croak.  She recoiled when he abruptly stood up.  
    “Relax, Charlotte. You’d be already dead if I had meant to kill you.” She rolled her eyes behind his back. His sudden mood swing had pissed her off. She had expected anger, disbelief but not this dismissal. A few seconds ago he was drinking each of her words as if she truly mattered, and the next, her thoughts were discarded like the distant buzzing of a fly. By now, she knew that if someone else had said something similar to Monroe, things wouldn’t have ended sweetly. She followed him with her gaze. His face was impassive and he seemed to have forgotten that she was here and all that she had confessed. She clenched her fists. She wanted to shake him or punch him, whatever it took to make his acknowledge what she had said. It sometimes felt like they said too much in their anger fueled sparring but it was never enough.  
  
    Monroe strode to the bar to pour himself a drink. He had already had a few too many but dinner wasn’t far around the corner. And maybe this would make more sense if he was drunk.   
    She had lied to him about Neville and yet, she could have left but she hadn’t. She had stuck around. And she was right, he had been trying to crush his people under an iron fist and scare his soldiers into complete and utter loyalty. For so long, he had believed it was the only way to keep the Republic safe and strong. But this had been the reason why Miles had left, and why he was losing his most trusted men.   
  
    He couldn’t force them, he realized.  He couldn’t force her. She was right but he would be damned if he admit it. He would go on in the same path he had paved for himself.  
  
    But was there another way to keep them under his order and not end up all alone, shaking his fist at the wind? He couldn’t trust her but he couldn’t shoot her either, not without having to deal with the deafening silence after. There were too many accusatory whispers waiting for him to be alone. He unfolded one of the many flyers he had had printed for his nuclear present for Atlanta. Finishing his glass, he came back towards the bed and tossed the paper to Charlie.  
    “What is… What?“ Her face had drained of blood. She must have read enough about what nuclear implied and the impact it had had in human history. A wry smile flashed on his face: she wasn’t afraid of her own demise but the fate of people she didn’t even know terrified her.  
    “So, you see, I can force people to obey me.”    
  
    Charlie covered her eyes with her hands as she shook her head. Danny had told her electricity would help Monroe build bigger weapons.  They had warned her, and yet here she sat, this flyer in her hand, and his hand smoothing the hair back from her face.   
    “And the funny thing is that with all your Jedi knight’s code, you’re the one who helped me get this bomb.“  Her hands dropped to her lap in horror, and he took advantage of the shift to cup her chin, forcing her to look up at him.  
    “Charlie Matheson, the hero who took a bullet to help the Monroe Republic. D’you want a statue to commemorate this?” he smirked, bending low to brush her lips with his in a mocking kiss.  
    Charlie was tempted to bite him as anger was bubbling over the stoic face she had kept since the beginning of his interrogation, but then he stepped away, staggering to the window.  
    The truth was that he didn’t feel that good about nuking Atlanta, Monroe admitted to himself. It was high time to teach a lesson to Foster. After all, he did warn her with those flyers. But Miles would be there, knowing him. He heard Charlie pick up her crutches and make her way to the bar. Sometimes, she reminded him so much of Miles and yet there was something fundamentally different in her. She wasn’t just Rachel and Ben or Miles’s daughter. She was herself. He could feel her eyes like daggers in his back as she mixed herself a drink.  
    “I was just following your orders, General Monroe.” Charlie watched as his hand tightened around his glass until she heard a loud crack. The housekeeper chose this moment to announced dinner. Monroe avoided Charlie’s gaze as he walked past her, leaving the cracked glass on the bar. Her barb had blistered him but she felt no triumph. They didn’t speak a word at the dinner table.  
  
     Later that night, she waited for him. She couldn’t sleep. Her body was exhausted from the tension and the crutches but her mind was reeling. The nurse dropped by to check on her and Charlie begged for something to help her sleep. She didn’t want to think about what was going on in Atlanta or about whether her family was there.  Doreen’s pill helped, but instead of a blissful sleep, she found her mind drifting into a strange, warped consciousness. Reality was all around her but she was floating. It didn’t matter that much of the world was ending in flames and radioactivity. She laughed quietly.  
    “Shoot! Should have told Doreen I’ve been drinking liquor like water.“ The poor nurse would have made such a face. She seemed to be a nice warm lady who probably had two kids and a cat. Charlie thought about the happy life they led, custard for dessert while their father smoked a pipe. The door creaked open and Monroe stepped inside, looking almost as smashed as she was.  She sat up, but he barely glanced towards the bed as he took off his clothes.  
    “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?“ She shrugged. He joined her under the covers. Since the injury, they hadn’t had sex. She didn’t know if he was being considerate, or whether he was no longer interested and getting his fix with someone else. The thought left her seething with jealousy, even though the pain and nausea since she’d been injured meant sex was the last thing in her mind.  And she refused to believe this might be about anything more than sex.  
    Her hand brushed his arm and his chest to reassure herself that at least, they were in the same bed, him warm by her side.  
    “How’s your leg?”  
    “Don’t know. I think I’m high.“ He didn’t acknowledge her remark. He didn’t push her hand away but he didn’t reach for her either. His breathing was loud and fast in the stillness of the room, as if each breath was a struggle.  
    “Miles was there. He didn’t speak but I just know it.“ Her hand paused on his shoulder. She rolled cautiously onto her side in order to face him. She had to shut him up. The last thing she needed was to hear a detailed account of the carnage that she helped create.  
    “He fucked it up. Atlanta is still standing.“ She peered at his face in the shadows but could only see his eyes glinting. His voice sounded bitter but not entirely disappointed. Her relief was more apparent as her body instantly relaxed.  
    “Turns out you won’t be the Matheson who saved the day.“ Her fingers fluttered. She knew that if she could touch his cheeks, they would be wet with remorse. She snuggled closer and placed her head on his chest. He accommodated her silently, his arms wrapping around her, his heartbeat lulling her into contemplation.    
  
     It was easy to forget the man when the General and President of the Republic was standing in front of his subjects, pulling each string to keep everyone in line, like puppets. It was difficult to recall the man when he was holding a gun to her head. But flesh to flesh, her nose buried against his warm skin, his manly scent and the steady thud of his heart, Charlie couldn’t escape the man. His silence couldn’t stop her from hearing his sadness and disgust at what had become of him and his beloved Republic. It didn’t matter that tomorrow, as soon as he buttoned up his uniform, any remnant of the vulnerable human being would be locked behind an iron mask.   
    This is why she stayed, even if she couldn’t really admit it to herself. This is what she traded her freedom and her family for. Most of the time, it seemed like one of the worst decisions she had ever made.  Tonight it made total sense. Maybe it was the effect of the drugs or because she was utterly exhausted, but the fact remained.  Tonight, all was right with Charlie Matheson’s world.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dearest readers,  
> Thank you so much for your support, kind comments and help. I'm so sorry for taking so much time in updating this story. This chapter had been edited a while ago but I had wanted to wait until I had the draft for the next one ready. I've been dealing with a very crippling writer's block but I think it's getting better.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading my story.


	11. Namesakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlie is getting over her injury and Monroe is starting to lose it. Both of them are faced with the confusing feelings they have for each other, and the Republic's dire situation. Charlie is finding herself, while Monroe is trying to use her for another one of his schemes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I usually post my notes at the end of the chapter, but before you start reading my new chapter, I wanted to apologise for the time I took updating this story. After many months dealing with my writer's block, studies and everyday distractions, I started to work on my novel. It has taken a lot of my time but I'm not giving up on my fanfics.
> 
> I'm determined to finish this story. Thank you so much for reading this new chapter. And a special thank you for all of you, who messaged me let me know that you love my story and asking me about the next update. Thank you for your support.
> 
> Also, I hope the layout doesn't bother you. I usually indent my paragraphs etc. but it seems that it no longer shows without a "work skin"? I can't seem to be able to work it out.. So I hope it doesn't disturb your reading.
> 
> Happy reading !

A lazy afternoon sun was filtering through the curtains. Charlie pulled her pants down and sat on the couch. This was a formality. The nurse knew very well that her wound was just a jagged scar now.

“It’s healing pretty nicely. You won’t be needing me anymore.“ Doreen confirmed. It had been nice to have her around. Monroe had become even more silent recently: tracking every move made by Miles and avoiding everyone, including her and Flynn. At least, Doreen spoke of things other than the Republic. And, she brought delicious homemade cookies and cakes to tempt her ward. Sometimes, Charlie wished she could be adopted by this woman.

Charlie pulled her pants back up and stood up. After she was done, both women smiled to each other. They didn’t know what to say. Their relationship had been professional but Doreen had looked after her patient, as if she was coddling a litter of kittens. Charlie was convinced that she hadn’t been concerned merely for the President’s sake but also because she truly cared about all her patients.

Her warmth and kindness had surprised Charlie and helped her pull herself up. After that blow from her family and Monroe’s games, the kindness of a stranger was surprisingly refreshing. It gave her some kind of hope that she couldn’t explain. With tender care, her fighting spirit was waking up. And even now, as they beamed at each other, Charlie couldn’t comprehend why the nurse would be so nice to her. Surprisingly her further, Doreen hugged her. Engulfed in a warm bubble of cinnamon and vanilla, Charlie closed her eyes. When they pulled away, she smirked and Doreen shot her an amused look. Charlie knew very well what her nurse might be thinking. Doreen prided herself for bringing “some life to this poor lamb“. And she had often made comments about Charlie being the proof that not all Mathesons were doomed to be grim and staggering through life. At which, the young woman would often snort. If being dark and twisted was a Matheson trademark, she could make her family proud. Doreen pat her shoulder.

“Just don’t over do it young girl. “ She shook her head with a smile, “Or else, that would mean that…“

“All Mathesons are fucked up and masochistic.“ The woman pursed her lips at Charlie’s choice of words but she still let out a good natured laugh.

“Something like that. I’d rather not see you again young lady. Stay out of trouble“

Charlie bit her lip and shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

“Promise.“They shared a last smile and Doreen left. Charlie felt a weight in her stomach. It didn’t feel good to lose another friendly face. But she didn’t have the luxury of entertaining friendships. No need to get attached to anyone. People had the tendency to either get killed or try to kill her. Who knew if brave Doreen, with her fairy cakes and creamy fudge, would decide to ditch her happy family and go on the war path against the President? Better to avoid entanglements. She was going to miss her, and the memory of her tender care would warm her heart when she will need it. And she had a feeling she soon would.

Left to her own devices, she looked around. Monroe’s bedroom suite looked the same and yet, everything felt different. Day after day, she had seen the room in every lighting. She had inspected ever nook and crannies. But today, she was looking at it with new eyes. It seemed smaller and less grande. Almost like a forgotten picture in a yellowing book. She could feel impatience crawling under skin, making it tingle.Dust was gathering on the window sill. It would have made Danny have an asthma attack, she mused. She pushed away her automatic concern for the brother who was no longer by her side. It was strange how, even though she didn’t know him anymore and hadn’t seen him in a long time, she could still feel him by her side. She didn’t have much company other than her friendly and unfriendly ghosts, and her jailer. The push and pull uniting her with Monroe was growing duller. Something was bugging him. She didn’t have the patience to make him talk.

He was growing sullen and even more suspicious of anyone who dared to speak too loudly or sneak away too discreetly. He was often drunk in the evenings and, as she was growing better, she was the one dragging him to their bed. The honeymoon was over, had it ever really begun? What a life! Charlie Matheson playing the nanny for the President of the Republic. She was almost missing her time in the Militia, but she missed something else more, something she could barely remember : her freedom. Another notion she had to stuff down her throat, and never indulge.

 

She got up and opened to the door. As expected, a guard was waiting for her. The doctor had ordered her to move about again, and Monroe had granted her the privilege of using his private training facilities. She grinned again as she recognized the guard on duty, Mark Holden.

“Ready for another session kiddo?“

He was the only guard that spoke to her like a human being. He had been following her the day she started to fence imaginary opponents with a wooden sword, the only one she was allowed to use. Without any hesitation, he had offered to help her work on her technique with an actual sword. Since then, he had been her instructor. They were walking side by side through the mansion. He was a bulky and hairy giant but he always had the funniest stories to tell her, and the juiciest gossip from the Militia. She had tried to make him talk about Monroe and Miles but that was the only subject he refused to speak about.

“Do you think he knows?“ Asked Charlie.

Mark shrugged nonchalantly, “I don’t think so, But then again. He knows everything.“They walked into the General’s gym. Charlie stopped in her tracks.

“I don’t want you to get in trouble.“The man laughed heartily,

“I think he has bigger fish to fry.“ He offered her the sword he had requisitioned for her. He didn’t let her dwell into her worries of what would happen if Monroe found out about what she was doing.

It was risky but Charlie needed this desperately, more than food, more than even love. As soon as she unsheathed her sword, her worries were forgotten. She was her sword and the graceful movement she had been trying to master. Nothing else mattered.

 

Their swords clashed and sweat trickled on her forehead. Her eyes were focusing on Mark’s sword and her own.

“Don’t forget your feet.“ Mark was relentless, making her back agains the wall.

“Move your feet!“She pushed back, with the elegance of a dancer, the tip of her sword grazed his shoulder and making him back away. It was delicious. She had been so thirsty for this feeling. She was breathless and giddy, moving against her opponent like a self-willed weapon. As they paused to take their breath and drink some water, a feeling of wellbeingwashed over her. This was the first time, in a very long time,she was doing something for herself. It wasn’t for Drexel, it wasn’t for Monroe or even her family. This was for Charlie Matheson. Session after session she could feel herself growing stronger. As her muscles were stretching and flexing, she could see herself more clearly. The helplessness that had driven her to Monroe’s arms wasn’t part of her true self.She didn’t need him as much as she thought. But did she want him more than she needed him? Her hand gripped the sword again and her eyes found Mark’s.

“Again?“ her voice sounded eager, even to her. He nodded.

 

When they left the facility, they were both exhausted. Charlie was even limping a bit. But she knew it would pass.

“Next week, I’m going to find someone. A guy I trust. You need to learn how to fight against more than one person.“ She nodded eagerly. Mark was always very dedicated. He had been some kind of trainer before the blackout. Like most of Monroe’s men, he had a shady past. He never talked about himself. She had heard whispers from her other guards. But she hadn’t tried to find out, she knew that sometimes secrets and privacy was all one truly possessed. Even now, it amazed her why this man was risking so much to train her: it made her feel grateful. They were lingering in front of the door of the bedroom, her cell.

“Hey.. I wanted to thank you about this.. I don’t know why you do it, but it’s so important for me.“ She was mumbling, trying to find the right words to convey her feelings, “Thanks, really.“

Mark nodded, accepting her thanks. He was leaning against the wall, obviously enjoying their moment together.

“Why? Well.. You’re a nice kid.“ She elbowed him. “You’re a kid to me. I know you’ve seen some fucked up shit. You remind me of people I knew. Folks who deserved to know how to fight.“ He was silent for a second but he straightened up again, before speaking again with a lighter tone:

“Besides, whoever trained you before your injury did a shitty job. And I hate seeing a job badly done.“ He was saved from talking further by the arrival of another soldier.

“Monroe wants to see you in the garden.“ Charlie nodded with a frown. She shot a concerned look at Mark but he barely shrugged. It wasn’t unusual to have Monroe requesting, or rather ordering, her presence. The only odd thing was the location. 

In his growing paranoia, he barely left his office and private rooms. The gardens were heavily guarded but she had never seen him taking a stroll in them. But even madmen need some air, don’t they? She tried to suppress the bubbling energy that her workout had given her. It was time to thread carefully. One doesn’t laugh and dance when the ground shakes and boulders roll by.

 

She found him with his hands crossed behind his back, gazing at a little pond. He waited until she was a few steps closer to turn around.With a quick glance he surveyed her appearance. Maybe he was still concerned about her wound?

“Heard the nurse cleared you for some real action.“ Of course he would go straight to business. The President checking on his prisoner. Charlie was well used to this but she also knew how to catch concerned glances and his voice wavering ever so slightly. And so, she gazed intently at his face, preparing for whatever he was going to dish out.

“Sort of.“She wasn’t ready for any action involving the Mathesons. She had heard that Monroe was setting up a not so secret meeting with Miles. Everyone knew he was better at sparring with his sword than with words. She jammed her hands nervously in her pockets.

“So she speaks! And how are you Charlotte?“ She rolled her eyes. She wasn’t the one hiding behind a wall of silence. Not talking to him when he was in one of his moods was her form of retaliation. She was glad it had made an impact on him. His fingers caught a tendril escaping from her disheveled braid. His voice lacked concern but there was a glint in his eyes that made her answer in a low voice:

“I’m feeling better.“He took a step back, his hand falling to his side.

“Right on time for a field trip.“Oh, she didn’t like the tone of his voice but he didn’t continue. His gaze wandered away. He seemed unsure. Charlie took this opportunity to pounce.

“I’m not going anywhere,“ her voice was louder this time.

“Come on Charlotte, this is getting boring. We both know you don’t have a say in this.“ Her eyes were venomous but she was perfectly still. There was still some adrenaline left over from her workout. She could see her fist on his face. She could see herself running away from Philly. She crossed her arms in front of her chest, trying to contain herself. No amount of regained self worth could make her forget the hard lessons that Drexel had taught her.And where would she go anyways? And she had no desire to see the inside of a cell, ever again. Although he was the very hurricane that was shaking up her life, he was the only stillness in her nightmare of a life. Monroe wasn’t paying attention to her. His gaze was fixed on something over her shoulder. She waited for him to speak but he was buying his time. She knew better, he was probably coming up with a scheme. After a few minutes, his gaze wandered back to her face. She met his stare squarely.

“Have you ever visited your grandparents? The Mathesons?“ The name sounded like an insult.She shot him a puzzled look.Didn’t he remember how she had grown up? He nodded as realization dawned.

“Of course not. Did your dad ever speak of them?“ She shifted her weight from one leg to the other. Around them, Mark and a few other guards were keeping their faces averted. It was a stupid place for a big discussion like this. She had no idea why he had picked it. As if she was going to talk about her father just like this. There was a place and time, for whispered confession.

He seemed to be lost in a memory as he considered her. He was probably thinking about the Mathesons. She was in a strange predicament. Here was one of the only person in the whole world who knew her family so well; Maybe, even more than the Mathesons themselves. What did she truly know about them? She frowned as she tried to remember her life before Drexel. Her dad did talk about his parents, he had considered finding them, at some point. But it was a blur now. Why should it matter? Why was he bringing it up? She buttoned up her jacket. It was growing cooler.

“Sort of.“ Her voice startled him from his reverie. He looked like he was about to say something unkind but he blinked and looked away. She had often noticed this struggle in him. It couldn’t be that he was starting to care about her. He had been careful with her since her injury but his concerned looks had vanished as soon as she had started to feel better. And she wasn’t a fool to confuse their renewed sex life with actual feelings. At least, not in her part. Monroe gestured her to follow as he was marching back inside.

 

He didn’t utter the word, until they were in his office and the door was shut behind them. Alone, at last. She was leaning against the wall, not letting herself get too comfortable. She wanted to be ready for his scheming. Ready to push back, as if they were sparring with actual swords. Monroe, on the other hand, sat down heavily on one of his comfortable arm chair. He spoke again in a low voice, as if lost in thought.

“They were nice to me when I was a kid. My dad was a dick. And my mom.. She was ok, I guess. But the Mathesons were nice. I always had a place at their table.“

His voice was devoid of malice and she listened to each word avidly. She didn’t dare to breathe too loudly. She could glimpse the young man from that old photograph she had found in his bedside table. But his elusive boyish expression had been replaced by his usual cool facade.

“They’re dead now. Probably right after the blackout.“ His voice was neutral but she could have sworn there was a hint of sadness in his blue eyes.

“Why are you telling me this?“

“Because we’re going to your uncle’s hometown.“ He paused and he added, “Mine too.“

Charlie straightened up and squared her shoulders. She knew what was coming. All she was to him was a bargaining chip, and no matter how attractive he looked, or how vulnerable, or how dangerous he actually was, she wasn’t going to back down. The pain, both mental and physical, of her last foray had made her protective of what was left of her. Her eyes sparkled in defiance, and Monroe’s own eyes darkened. They had been here many times before. Sometimes she thought that was the only way they knew how to talk to each other. But her voice was growing stronger every passing day. And she couldn’t stop.

“You’re the one going there. I’m not!“ She hissed.Her confinement to his rooms had made her anger grow. She did want to leave this damn place, but not as General Monroe’s secret weapon. She was a person and it was about time he realized that.She deserved better. He barely flinched at her words. He cocked his head to the side looking at her intently.

“You want me to leave you here to start your little revolution? D’you think I didn’t know about your training sessions with Holden?“ She wasn’t deceived by his gentle voice. A wave panic made her gaze dart to the door. She had to force a breath in. Of course he knew. Damn him. Fear was replaced by rage, he always had absolute control over her, and knew everything. The anger was threatening to bubble over.He stood up and was now a fist away from her. She could feel her hands tighten defensively. His gaze was wandering from her eyes, to her lips and she shuddered. She knew this gaze very well, it usually made her blood boil in quite a different manner. His fingers were under her chin, lifting her face to his. His lips were a breath away from hers, his scent enveloping her, making her shiver. But she held his stare with a renewed fury. He knew where to touch and how to look at her to weaken her resolve. But she had also gathered her own intelligence, she might not know everything but she knew enough.

“Sure… why didn’t you stop me?“ She rasped.He tore his gaze away from hers and his hand dropped to her shoulder. He paused, as if he were considering her question, his fingers digging into her jacket and flesh. He took a step back. Charlie bit back a smile, as she crossed her arms in front of her chest. It was a rare sight to see General Monroe lost for words. But it was only a momentary lapse. He was facing her again and his voice didn’t betray any emotion.

“I do need all my soldiers ready for Jasper. Thanks for all your good work Cadet Monroe.“ Typical. In a few words, he was using her rank to dismiss her like a worthless child. She lifted her chin in defiance and shook her head.

“Now I’m your soldier? Whore one day, prisoner the next. Starting to lose your grip old man?“His eyes flashed in annoyance and wrath.

 

Monroe knew he could end this game by making her submit to his will and orders. She was his prisoner after all. There were no reasons to indulge her little tantrums. The last thing he needed was a Matheson giving him attitude. A kitten hissing and spitting. But the truth was that he liked it. That same temper that had drawn him in, the first time they met, the same vulnerable fury, was making him famish for more. That spark of defiance, of resilience, was growing every day in this young woman. It was spreading like wildfire, making her eyes sparkle and her skin flush, and her muscles taunt. She needed to be put in her place. He relished it, he was ready to punish her for her insubordination, he loved their confrontations. What he really wanted was to slam her agains the wall, and devour her mouth. Feel her body coming undone, hear her frantic moans. And yet, standing in anticipation, right in front of her was also intoxicating. She was a sight for sore eyes but she was more than that. 

It was as if someone was bursting the bubble that kept him separated from the rabble, the people that he had wanted to protect and those he doubted. She gave as good as she got. Sure, she knew how to lie but only out of fear. And in moments such as these, with her hands balled into fists, pressed against her chest, he knew she wasn’t afraid of him anymore. It gave air to his lung and cleared his mind. He ruled with fear but despised those who feared him. Charlotte Matheson was fearless. Her lips were parted, ready to retort, or to kiss him back, if he ventured there. Unafraid, maybe an equal? Had Miles found her and brought her up here, in Philly, she would have been magnificent. They would have ruled, all three of them, side by side, like a family. The thought startled Monroe away from his admiration for the young woman. His gaze dropped. Where was he going with this? She was making him lose his grip. He didn’t have the time to rave and daydream like a schoolgirl. In one step, his breath was on her face and his angry gaze digging into hers.

“Charlotte, just because I enjoy your.. Your skills in bed,it doesn’t mean that I won’t get rid of you once you’re no longer of use. We’re going to Jasper tomorrow. Now get out of here“ He minced his last order as he watched her brave face crumple. He looked away, trying to escape the spectacle of what he had done.

 

Charlie moved towards the door but paused to look at him.She had felt so strong, so tough earlier. And in a few words, a mere glance, he had taken it all away from her. Her anger had faded into despair. Why did she care for this wreck of a man? It was only sex, he was right. Nothing else. She took in his appearance as General Monroe, President of the Republic, something about his clean and well ironed uniform always made her want to have her way with him. Especially when he was furious. To have him craving for her, his hands begging as he was panting against her. He met her gaze for the briefest of moment, he looked almost sorry for his choice of words. She closed the distance to brush her lips against his, her hands pulling his collar and ruffling his curls. He kissed her back, ravenously, his chest pressed on her breast, pushing her against the wall. She pulled away, her legs shaking and her breath labored :

“I’m not going.“ She slammed the door behind her for extra measure. She knew her stunt would unsettle him. He was playing with her nerves, and so was she. She hated that she cared about what he thought about her, that deep down she longed for more consideration and care. It would be so much easier if it was only about sex and basic comfort.

 

Monroe watched her go. He didn’t follow her or remind her of who he was. The way it was going, they would end up banging on his desk or on the floor. He didn’t have the time for this. He had to focus: Miles. Jasper. Charlotte? Well, it wasn’t like she had any choice over the matter. She was going to follow his orders. And it made him feel nauseous. He should have gotten rid of her when he had the chance. Mathesons were too good at this, she was already under his skin. Poisoning him and yet… He couldn’t and wouldn’t let her go. He knew, it was be a bad idea to take her with him, but he couldn’t leave her here either. Somehow, facing Miles with Charlotte within reach was easier. As if she was a missing link between them. He dismissed the thought. He took a few steps around his office.He didn’t trust her to stay put. He knew the minute he would turn his back, she’d start her very own little rebellion and she’d leave. Would he ever wake up to find her pointing a gun to his head? Would she shoot him?

He paused in front of his bar and poured himself a drink. Keeping Charlotte by his side was risky. He didn’t know wether he’d be able to keep his cool with Miles, the rebellion and Georgia’s men prancing about. And what would happen to her? Will he be able to really use her as a bait? To shoot her? There was so much violence in their kisses and their angry words. And so much solace in her welcoming embrace, her endearing eyes, and her whispers. One way or the other, he was going to lose her. Nothing lasts. The thought made him grimace but he pushed it away with another gulp of liquor. He really should find another nameless woman to warm his bed and send Charlotte off to the front, and let her be killed. Another casualty for the greater good. But he couldn’t.

He had spent too many nights starring at her crumpled form after she got injured. Once more, he was letting Charlotte make him lose his focus. Too many times, he had caught himself thinking about her. It wasn’t only about how he wanted her body under, or, over his. He had silly thoughts about her, even when he was busy deliberating on how to keep his Republic standing. Things like, what kind of life Charlotte would have had if the blackout hadn’t happened. Odd unimportant things, such as, wondering what would be on her Facebook feed or what kind of music she would have liked. Other times, he dreamt of the Republic going smoothly, Miles barking orders from his corner of the room, and Charlotte scolding both of them for their mistakes, and slurping down their hoard of alcohol. He would wake up with a start and look at the girl sleeping next to him. He had been caught at his own game. Charlotte was under his skin, Charlotte was a liability. A Matheson. Monroe downed his glass and left it on the edge of the bar. He had to gather his wits. This was not the time to lose his mind over a girl. He knew better.

Jasper would help putting this in perspective. She was a mean to an end, albeit, excellent in bed. Maybe they had become too close, and he had grown too found to her. It was time to shake her up, to remind her of who she was, even if she didn’t know it. He was an excellent soldier, a leader of men, he always knew what action had to be taken. It was high time to tell the truth to Charlotte. His throat constricted and he had to cough. Telling her would break that twisted fairytale they had been living. It will make the ground shake under her but it would be easier to make her comply.

He also needed to say it out loud to her, for himself. The suspicions that had been confirmed by little things, in her behavior, even her body. Yes, he had to tell her what he knew. To save whatever was left of himself. He had been holding on to a thread before she bounced in. And now, she had made his illusions crumble down, he had to do the same thing to her. Once he would have reminded her that she was an unwanted orphan, he would be able to focus again without these mushy feelings. This decision made his vision clear and he went back to examine the map spread on his table. Jasper was a small place, it was the perfect stage for a Star Wars worthy duel between two brothers turned ennemies. Charlotte was the perfect piece to draw the lone wolf out. If not, there were enough people that Miles could still care about.

The only thing he needed was to keep Charlotte in his ranks and distance her from the Mathesons, forever. And what would be better than tell her about the secret that Rachel and Miles had been keeping from everyone? It was the only spark he needed to get this fire starting. He spend the rest of his afternoon preparing the fateful face-off, giving orders and reading reports about the Georgia Federation and the rebels.

 

When he retreated to his bedroom, he found Charlotte curled up in the middle of the bed.Her long blonde hair was spread around her, in an unruly fashion. He didn’t even need to look at her face to know she was awake. He hesitated on the foot of the bed. Even for him, it was cruel. He didn’t really want to do it, but he had to. He could smell the flower soap she always used for her hair. He sat down gingerly on his side of the bed.He closed his eyes and breathed in her scent and the stillness of her presence tonight. He opened his eyes, unlaced his boots and kicked them off, along with his socks, and turned his face towards her. His voice was softer than he intended when he spoke:

“I know you don’t want to go… But I really have no choice Charlotte. Miles..“

She sat up abruptly, making him pause. She faced him, her voice was louder than his:

“No I get it. You need me to bait Miles and the others. Don’t apologize for it, I get it. I’m not stupid.“Her tone was bitter and sharp. She was looking at him intently as she continued, “but I think you’re wrong. It’s not going to work this time. They almost killed me. And now? I hardly think they’d care… Miles wants me dead to protect Danny.“

Hetook a deep breath. Parts of him didn’t want to do it, but that was the only way to make Charlotte comply. Or at least, rattle her enough to stay put. She looked defiant, which was difficult to do while only wearing undergarments, but Charlotte had the ability to show attitude, in any given situation.

“They won’t care but Miles would.“ His hand brushed her forearm and tapped it lightly, almost nervously. It was a small mole, a beauty mark. He had seen it before.

“That mole you have… You know that Miles has exactly the same, in the same place?“Charlotte shot him a puzzled look. But like she said it earlier, she wasn’t stupid. Her eyes widen in realization as she hissed :

“What the fuck are you implying?“

He wasn’t smiling but he would have if he was facing anyone other than Charlotte. He tried to keep his tone light but it was difficult. The words was rasping against his tongue.

“Miles was my best friend. I knew everything about him.. Hell, we even shared girls.“ Charlotte snorted.

“And your mom… Mommy dearest. I knew all about her affair with Miles.“Charlotte was dumbstruck. She wasn’t denying, she wasn’t yelling. Just silent. He searched her face, feeling instantly guilty. What had become of him? He had never been one to kick someone when he was down. And Charlotte, she had been through hell. He knew about her conflicted feelings about Ben and maybe she was putting pieces together : remembering neglect or innocent words, with twisted meanings, coming from her father’s lips. He didn’t want her to go through this and yet, he continued. His voice monotonous and his eyes evading hers:

“And she left you, your brother and especially, your dad.. To find Miles.“

“She hates him.“

“Well.. About that, it’s probably my fault. But she can be such a bitch…“Charlotte didn’t flinch when he spoke. He waited for her to react but she didn’t speak. She seemed to be waiting for his next words. She was poised, her breathing regular and she wasn’t averting her gaze from him.Whatever shock she might have felt in the beginning of his revelation was now hidden behind a cool facade. And for a moment, he was mesmerized: if he managed to keep her by his side, in his Militia, what could she become? But she bit her lips and her shoulders slumped slightly and the vision was broken. This was not the magnificent General Charlotte Matheson but just…Charlie. Orphan Charlotte.

“So? Just spit it out already.“Her tone was still defiant but her voice was wavering.

“There are high chances that Miles is your real father. Too bad DNA testing aren’t in, anymore. The affair, it ended, roughly, nine months before your birth. Less even. “

Charlotte kept her gaze on his, but didn’t breathe another word. They sat in total silence, eye to eye, waiting for the other to speak or react. But what was there to say? No certainty. Now that the cat was out of the bag, Monroe was trying to find a way to pursue his plan. But, it hadn’t worked. Charlotte remained unscathed and maybe even calmer than before. It was as if she thrived on chaos, as if she needed it to soar. He couldn’t help but be proud of her. And, let’s admit it, completely turned on by her fierce pose. Cross-legged, wearing barely any clothing, she was giving him hell.

 

Charlie held her ground. There were waves of resentment and tears threatening to engulf her but she couldn’t let those thoughts in. Years and years, she had wondered about Ben’s kind love laced with something she shouldn’t quite understand. And that elusive Miles. Was it relief she felt? To finally know that she had been right to suspect that something was fishy about her birth. Relief that the reason why Ben hadn’t bother to really look for her was that she wasn’t his. But from that elation she slumped into horror : is this why Miles gave Danny the order to shoot her? He must have known, he must know that she could be his daughter. If it was true…Just because Monroe was revealing it, it didn’t mean it was real. True or false, this discussion was making her eyes swim and her brain work overtime. It forced her to consider things she’d rather forget about. Clever Monroe. She found her voice again:

“Clearly, Miles didn’t get the memo.“ But Monroe’s eyes were straying from her lips to the hollow of her neck and to her breast, making her skin tingle in anticipation. Their gaze met again. She had no idea what had brought this conversation on, but right now, she didn’t care anymore. Whether her father was Ben or Miles didn’t matter, either way, they hadn’t care much about her. Why should she think about them? There were other things far more interesting to dwell into. Certain things were better left unsaid, or simply ignored.She wet her lips and forced a breath in. It didn’t surprise her that her mother had had an affair with her uncle, father, she knew enough about the dark side of human nature to make sense of it. Her father had always been a kind but emotionally stunted man. And Miles seemed to be the bad boy that any girl with sense would go for. But why marry Ben? Why lie to everyone? She hated her mother. As for her fathers? Were they clueless idiots or liars who didn’t want to deal with an unwanted daughter?

She didn’t need a father. She had been living without one for the longest time. She was doing fine without either of them. And from what she had heard, Miles was thriving.No, she really didn’t need a dad.

 

Monroe was sitting on the bed, his feet planted on the floor. She shifted to her knees as she reached towards him and her fingertips caressed his fingers and knuckles. His skin was rough against her soft skin. Her fingers traveled to the hem of his rolled up shirt. She looked up to read his face. His lips were parted and his eyes were dark. Good, she had diverted his attention. She bit back a smile as she leaned forward, her lips brushing against his ear.

“Who fucking cares?“ Her teeth gently nibbled his earlobe. She felt his hand tangling on the back of her head, the other one tugging at her bra. He pulled her face to his, and his lips found hers. His hands were now framing her face. He gently pushed her away and searched her eyes. He didn’t look like that cruel and devious man who had been playing with her tattered heart a few minutes earlier. His face was flushed and his eyes soft.

“Charlotte, I didn’t… You should…“ His gruff voice made her shiver, as his breath caressed her lips.

“Shut up, Bass.“ She kissed him. He parted his mouth, enough for her tongue to find his. His arms drew her on his lap. She pulled away for air and started to unbutton his shirt.

“Too many damn buttons.“ She whined. She shot him an annoyed look when she heard him chuckle. She stood up. She offered him a wry smile as she pulled off her bra, dropping it on the floor. She bent forward to take off her underpants and looked up. He was not smiling anymore.Completely naked, she tiptoed back to the bed.

“Who’s laughing now?“Her voice was barely a whisper when she spoke again, “need some help?“ He was starring at her, in the dim firelight. His gaze was scalding her. She didn’t wait for his answer, as she sank to his feet to pull off his pants. Her nails were scratching his legs, skin and scars.He wasn’t wearing any undergarment, making her job easier. For a second, she forgot where she was going with this. Her gaze couldn’t pull away from his cock. Her fingers were gentler this time as they caressed it. She heard his sharp intake of breath. She glanced at him before brushing her lips against his tip. It did make her even more wet to see the effect she had on General Monroe himself. But she didn’t dwell on the thought, she couldn’t focus on anything other than the feeling of his hard dick sliding in her mouth, and his voice moaning her name. But before he could come to completion, she pulled away. His fingers were digging on her neck, demanding more. She pulled up, pushing his hands away, rising up and straddling him. She tore off his shirt, until her hands could feel his bare chest. His lips were on her throat, between her breast, his tongue wet against her cold skin. His mouth was teasing her left nipple, when her orgasm erupted. She didn’t stop swaying her hips until he came not long after. Flesh to flesh. They didn’t move as they regained their breath. Ben and Miles were forgotten. She had drowned into the overwhelming wave that was Bass Monroe. It was a welcoming and warm darkness that made all her thoughts fade away.

 

Later, they were lying on the bedcover and she was curled against his chest, his arm clasping her. His fingers were leisurely tangling her hair, and caressing her shoulder. They weren’t speaking. She was drifting back to reality but her anger had mellowed down. Thoughts of fighting back, hurting him the same way he had hurt her, were gone. Her confusion and despair of finding out more about her birth was pushed away, to be examined later. If she didn’t think about it, maybe it didn’t need to be real? Feeling safe and desired, she was drifting into a gentle slumber. Charlie was almost asleep when he whispered:

“Why d’you call me Bass? Where did you hear that?“ She closed her eyes to see the picture of him and Miles, safely tucked away in his drawer. Somehow, it always cheered her up, to remember his smile and sparkling eyes. Such innocence!She wondered about the person who had scribbled their names, Bass and Miles, on the back. Maybe her mother ? Or Ben ? It was taken at their wedding after all. She couldn’t escape them.

“Heard it from my.. Rachel.“ It would make more sense. She never used the nickname, because he rarely acted like that man on the picture. She knew Monroe very well but Bass was a mystery. A symbol of what was lost forever. Bass seldom showed his face in Monroe’s countenance.She could only see a glimpse of him in bed, after sex, or when the lights were off. Bass was still there, in Monroe’s vulnerabilities. Like a ghost, lurking in the dark waiting to be freed.

“Nobody calls me that anymore.“ He didn’t add anything else but it sounded awfully forlorn. Charlie bit back the urge to remind him that it was probably his own fault. She was too comfortably nestled against him. And she had a feeling that he knew it anyways. Closing her eyes, she listened to his heart beating, his slow breath lulling her to sleep. Her last conscious thought was, the wish of having known Bass, this hopeful and laughing man on that forgotten picture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope it was worth the wait... There's more coming, the next chapter is already drafted. I will do my best to post it very soon.
> 
> As you can probably see, smutty scenes aren't my forte. If you have any suggestions to help me improve this skill : please let me know. 
> 
> This chapter is a bit of a filler, but I needed Monroe to tell Charlie about her parentage before the next instalment. The next one will bring about a lot of change but I won't say more... ;)
> 
> And thank you SO MUCH for still reading this story. Your interest, kudos, and comments really make me happy.


	12. Shoulder to Shoulder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter. Initially this story was supposed to be longer but all stories need an end. Bass has a change of heart about taking Charlie to Jasper with him, the consequences of his decision change the course of Charlie's life.

The room was quiet. Too quiet. He could hear someone walking in the hallway, whispers in another room. Always whispering. The President had gone mad. Time to flee, before the rebellion reached Independence Hall.

He had lost all his leverage, and whatever was lost of his sanity. He was screwed. His fingers drummed against his desk. He liked the sound, the cadence reminded him that he was a soldier. He was used to it. He was used to silence.

Charlotte left. She left, just like everyone else always did. There was no gun pointed at him in the death of night. His fingers halted their cadence and he massaged his temples.

His eyes were closed and he could still hear himself and see her. It was their encounter. The night before he had barely slept. They were supposed to leave for Jasper in a few days but doubt had been growing in him. Terror that something might happen to Charlie. Terror that he might lose against Miles. Everything was mixed up in mind. He dreamt about Charlie when he had found out she had been shot. Never trust a Matheson. Her pale face. The smell of blood. He had woken up with a start. Charlie was sleeping on her side her leg brushing against his. She looked so peaceful. He couldn’t let this happen.

He had gone through the motions the next day, avoiding Charlie until he realize that there was only one way out. He could find another leverage but there were no other Charlie. He had asked one of his men to bring her to his office. As soon as she had come he had turned his back on her. He couldn’t look at her leaving him for good. The word had left his lips before he could think more, there was a sense of urgency making his whole body tingle :

“Leave.“

“Wait.. What? I don’t..“ She almost sounded hurt.

“Go, Charlotte. Go while you still can.“

She was looking at him with a glint in her eyes. He didn’t know whether it was fear or hope, or perhaps some other feelings he’d rather not dwell on. He couldn’t look at her. His eyes were on the wall, peering at each crack and the paint peeling off.

“You heard me. I’ve had enough..“ He shook his head. Charlie, Charlotte who had given him some hope. Some respite, moments of; was it love? He stood up and walked up to her. His fingers on her chin et raised her eyes to his.

“I’ve done terrible things… I was justified. But I think that.. What I did to you? I’ll never forgive myself.“ And what he was planning to do to her was even worse. He would have done it, without thinking twice if it wasn’t for her, for those wild eyes, that pout.. Those hands and the way she said ‘Bass’.

“But you..“

“Charlotte. One day you will remember and you will know. I was wrong.“ He could lean into her and kiss her breathless, he could push her against his desk. He could go back to their never ending dance. She was still looking at him with a confused glare. She was working up some anger. Good. Better that she hated him.

He pulled away and crossed his arms over his chest. Disgust was coursing in his veins. He had done it. Fuck. He had reached rock bottom. He took advantage of her. Through and through. What kind of man? What kind of man.

Had they met in better circumstances… He shook his head, his gaze meeting hers again.

He turned away to pick up the laisser-passer he had prepared and the map.

“Here. I will let my men know that I’m releasing you. Miles.. And the rest of your family are there. Just go to them.“

“Did I do something wrong?“

“Didn’t you want to leave ever since you arrived here?“

She nodded. Her eyes fell back on the map, her forehead was creased for a second and her gaze looked determined again. The fierce girl who had ripped into his life was still here. She looked up.

“Is it a trap?“ He was going to miss her raspy voice. Her lips…

“It’s all over Charlotte… Not the Republic. The Republic is safe… I have my plan. But for what?“ He could feel his eyes watering up. Damn it. His nerves were frayed. He could feel everything. The pain, the rage… the sadness. The bitterness. He just knew he had to let her go. Or else, whatever was left of him inside of his body would be destroyed beyond recognition.

“Thank you.“ Her voice was clear now and she was almost smiling.

“Go to to the master of arms. He has orders to give you weapons.“

She nodded and walked to the door. She stopped, her hand on the handle. She shot him a gaze from over her shoulder. He was trying to keep a poker face. The girl didn’t need to know that he was breaking up inside. She didn’t need to know, that only now he had realized what she had meant to him… And what he had done to her.

“Thanks. And not just for that… i know it doesn’t seem like it but you did save me in some way. I hope we’ll see each other again.“ She sounded so young. Her eyes shinning with renewed hope, her cheeks rosy. as if she was already living a happy free life. A real life. Even now, even after all he had done she still offered him this light…

“Better we don’t Charlotte.“ He hadn’t meant to sound so gruff. He hated goodbyes. He gestured towards the door. She nodded. He looked away as he heard the door open. And she was gone.

He could still see that last gaze. He still didn’t know what it meant. What should it mean? She was finally free after years selling herself for Drexel, and being used by him. He went back to staring at the map of Jasper. It was time to face Miles and finish what they had started. It couldn’t get worse, could it?

 

Her first step as a free woman were strange. Charlie almost felt like she hadn’t walked before. After all, she had been bedridden for a while… But it wasn’t about this. She wasn’t one of Drexel’s girls. She wasn’t the president’s whore. She was herself. Charlie Matheson. She could go anywhere.

Her first night alone was the strangest. She was out in the wild. She hadn’t dear light a fire but she was regretting it. She could hear animals roaming about. A fire would have kept some of them at bay. Her hands were curled around the handle of the gun she had been given. She still hadn’t made up her mind about joining her family.

They didn’t mean much. She couldn’t remember their habits, their voices. Monroe, on the other hand, was everywhere. She could still smell him on her clothes. Feel his body against hers and his breath mingling with hers. He hadn’t kissed her goodbye.

He had dismissed her like a child. She wasn’t an idiot. She knew he didn’t need her anymore. Once more, he was ignoring what they both knew was between them. Stupid man. Stupid idiotic man. Too bad, she bit her lips, too bad for him. She shivered. She dug into the kitbag she had been given. There was a sleeping bag attached under it. She unrolled it and tried to sleep. She didn’t sleep a wink.

It took her two days to decide, whether to go back to what she knew, to walk on into the horizon or to find her family. Someone had marked with a cross a place in the map with the note “Last known location of Miles Matheson.“ She hated the man. It was a gut feeling, something she had drunk up with every kiss shared with Bass. And yet, there was something else. Something other than this sense of injustice, something she had sense in her own brother’s words and that picture.

She had kept it folded in the pocket of her pants. Lucky thing, as she had taken nothing from the room she had shared for months with Bass. She unfolded it and peered at the faces. It was still pretty dark. It was dawn, the second one she was welcoming as a free woman.

She should make a move, she thought idly as she stared at the faces. She would forget him.. One day. A tree branch snapped and she looked up. No one. Her heart was racing. No, not again. She shoved the picture in the bag, didn’t matter if it crumpled, and took out the map. Her hands were shaking too much for her to be able to read it careful. She took a deep breath, another one. Like her friends had taught her at Drexel. Breathe in, breathe out. You’ll be fine, you’ll survive Charlie. Breath out.

She rolled up her sleeping bag, strapped it to her pack and she was gone. She was used to being hungry, thirsty.. Tired and cold. But this was knew, she could walk without anyone stopping her. There was knife in her booth and a rifle in her hands. She’ll be fine.

He shouldn’t have sent her alone. Wasn’t it what had gotten her caught? Bass mused as he looked at the helicopter waiting to take him to the tower. He was unfocused. He clenched his jaw and squared his shoulders, he was still president Monroe. General Monroe. It didn’t matter if Charlie was alive or dead. Why would it? Soon power will be back, and it will be within his grasp. He would have it all. And that was all he needed. He nodded to his soldiers as he stepped in the helicopter. Charlie would have loved this. He had planned to taker along. The perfect leverage. But the good people of Jasper would have to do.

Funny he should think about her. It had been months since he had told her to leave. She was always in a corner of his mind. Those Mathesons were like a torn under his skin. They wouldn’t leave. They haunted his every sleeping hours and waking moments. Charlie was just an extension of Miles. Probably his daughter. Silly girl who had almost staid with him. Almost.

Charlie had spent her first week with her family in a cell. She had heard them arguing. Miles, her father and her mother. She didn’t know which one was more suspicious. There was also a woman that came to give her found. She was petite but with a fierce gaze. She had also brought a blanket for Charlie and a mattress. Nobody had thought about giving her something to sleep on and under until this woman had showed up. She was kind but Charlotte could see that she was probably deadly with the proper weapon and circumstances.

Today, her friend hadn’t shown up. Charlie felt sick to her stomach. She had loved that long journey that had brought her to her family. But there was no Danny.. No loving mother embrace. She hadn’t expected anything from Miles but a rebuff.

All those long talks with Bass, in the dead of the night had given her the impression that she knew those strangers that she called family. They probably thought she was a spy. She had tried to explain, yellowed but nothing had worked.

It was fear that had driven her here… A fear that was partying gift from Drexel and human traffickers. Never wander alone. Now that the wave of terror had faded away, she was angry at herself. She should have left all this mess behind. Instead, she was listening to her mother argue with her uncle or father, herd master or whatever he was.

“Okay! I’ve had enough. Let me out, now! For the hundredth time : I am not a spy.“ It sounded unconvincing to her own ears but she had nothing.. Nothing but a crumpled lassoer passer signed by the President himself.

She heard a key turn and the door creaked open. It was her new friend. She shot her a warning look and Charlie sat back on her bed. The door was locked again, the key safely hidden in the woman’s clothes.

“What’s your name?“ It would be nice to call her something other than ‘the only nice woman in this goddamn place.

“Nora. Nora Clayton. You’re Charlie.“

“Matheson, but you know that.“ snorted Charlie. Her fiend offered her a tentative smile as she sat down next to her.

“You think I’m a spy.“

“No. I don’t. Nor does Miles. It’s just.. Complicated… Since..“ Nora wasn’t speaking anymore instead she was peering at Charlotte. As if she was looking for some kind of reaction, a word of encouragement.

“You mean, it’s my mother? She’s..“

“It’s complicated Charlie. And I shouldn’t be the one telling you this..“

“Well, you’re the only who’s actually speaking to me.“ She tried to smile but her whole face wouldn’t cooperate. She was tired. Dirty, and hungry. She was dead tired.. So tired of forever being locked up. Her bleeding heart, always making her reach for others and being pushed to her death. It was the last time. Last time, she swore to herself.

Nora, on the other hand was listening to the shouts they could both hear. It was Rachel, her mother.

“No. You don’t understand Miles. I lost Ben.. I lost Danny and now I’m left with her? Monroe’s..“

“What. What did she say? Where’s Danny?“ Nora shook her head, her eyes sad. Charlie stood up, “Where’s my brother, Nora? Where is he?“ She could read the answer on Nora’s face. She shook her head. But she couldn’t cry, she could only open her mouth and close it. She felt numb. She was used to it, pain. She hadn’t expected so much sadness for Danny. He was a stranger… Wasn’t he? She closed her eyes. She could him rasping for air. Those nights she had guarded him against his illness. She had been lying to herself all along, believing those twisted truths Bass had been whispering : Danny hadn’t been a stranger. He was her brother. And the last time they had seen each other, he shot her. And now she will never know whether he meant it or not.

“Charlie…“ Nora reached for her but Charlie backed against the wall. She didn’t want kindness, she didn’t need warmth. There was still rage in her veins. She had survived worse. She will survive worse. Now, if only she could find a way out of this mess?

 

“Listen, I don’t need you to coddle me. I just want to get out. If you guys think I’m a spy. Fine. I’ll get out of your hair. I just can’t stay in a cell anymore. I’m.. I’m a person for fuck sake. “

Her hands were folded into fists and her voice was growing louder with each word. “She has to come here. I want to see her face when she tells me that I’m a spy.“

She heard someone knocking at the door. She crossed her arms over her chest. So, Rachel was finally coming to talk to her? Nora unlocked the door and Charlie was surprised to see Miles. He looked older than before, older than Bass.

“Hi.“ He said awkwardly. Charlie shrugged. She had said enough. She had yelled for hours until her throat had grown raw. He knew what she wanted. She knew he had heard her. Loud and clear.

“You’re angry. I understand. It’s just that your mom…“

“Rachel“.

“Yes, Rachel. She’s.. Devastated since Danny. And She might be right… You did choose to stay with M.…“

“Danny was also my brother. “ She spat back. She didn’t need him to rehash the past. Yes, she could have left Monroe. She only left when he told her to leave.

“She thinks you’re kinda… to blame?“

“Come on Miles.“ It was Nora, she had her hand on his arm. Ex lovers. Yes, Charlie could tell. She knew enough.

“I just want to leave. So if you guys don’t want me here…“

Miles was looking at his feet. He didn’t look like the Butcher of Baltimore. He didn’t look like the man who had betrayed his best friend. He looked like a lost person. She had seen guys like them. They drank more than they breathed, and they were constantly looking for some kind of anchor. And Miles Matheson was an unlucky bastard, his anchor was cold hearted Rachel. Poor guy. She did feel pity for him. He was looking for words. He was probably an incredible soldier, and leader but he sucked big time at playing father or a diplomatic envoy for Rachel Matheson.

“Listen Charlie, you’re family. I can’t believe I’m saying this but Danny.. He told me a lot about you. He never meant to shoot..“

“I don’t want to hear about him. He’s dead. I get it. And you feel bad. Now let me go for fuck’s…“

“Let me finish. Whatever happened with Monroe and before.. We’re your family. You have to stay.“

“In this cell? You call this a family reunion?“ She had enough. “Just give me my stuff and I’ll be out of here. I’ve had enough of this drama.“

She heard someone laugh. She looked over Miles’ shoulder. Nora was laughing.

“Sorry guys. It’s just that.. You sound exactly like Miles.“

It didn’t make Charlie laugh. She saw Miles give her a strange look.

“Don’t even start. I know about our possible family tie. I don’t care. I haven’t had a dad for years. I’m fine. I just…“

“Want to leave.“ He repeated. She nodded. They were silent.

“I can’t force you to stay… But… “

“For fuck’s sake, Miles. Let her leave this cell. I.. I’m vouching for her. Just tell Rachel, I’ll be on the lookout.“

“That won’t convince her..“

“You and Rachel. I don’t know what she has over you.. But you’re the trained soldier, she’s just a scientist. You know better. Does this girl look like a spy?“

Miles look at her. It made the hair on her nape stand up. It wasn’t the awkward almost dad who was scrutinizing her. It was a man that would kill her in a heartbeat if he saw any potential threat. She guessed he had a good shit detector. He was made from the same mold as Bass.

“Why did you leave?“

She held back a sigh of relief at finally being questioned. He really meant business.

“He told me to leave. I think he wanted to use me as a bait.. But he changed his mind. Something about. About. I don’t know. He changed his mind. You know how he is.“

Did he know? Did he know that the Bass Monroe from that picture still existed deep down? It still didn’t make sense but she was starting to grasp the possibility that he had changed his mind because he cared about her.. In some way. He had finally acknowledged it… by doing what he thought was the best thing.

Miles’ steel gaze was still on her face but she wasn’t looking away. A lifetime ago she would have flinched, been terrified. But she knew now that he wouldn’t hurt her. He wasn’t Drexel. Or those other men… He was like Bass. A good man lost in the storm, who came out something else.. Something undefinable. She understood him. He wasn’t prone to hysterics like her mother, his mind was working methodically. He knew Bass better than she did.

“He knows you’re here... Though. You probably saw the map he gave me. He knows about Georgia.“

“You know about Jasper?“

“Yes. I was supposed to go there, with him. He wanted to use me as a bait.“ She looked away, remembering their fight. She did miss him, even though she knew she shouldn’t. “I didn’t want to go. I guess.. This is why he let me go.“ She offered pitifully. She knew she sounded silly. She was scared to let her infatuation show in her words or eyes.

She dared to face Miles again but his face had softened. He wasn’t the dangerous military man grilling her. He was someone from her family.

“I’ve been summoned there. Or else.. Everyone dies. I guess it’s a good sign he let you go. Come on kid.“ He gestured towards the door. He lead her out. It was nice to be under the sun again. She could see the rest of the camp, Georgian soldiers lounging about. A few were looking suspiciously at her, but others were looking away. It seemed they respected Miles Matheson’s iron fist.

“He wants me to go alone.“

“He has wanted to kill you for a while.. Because of that night, you left.“ Miles shot her a surprised look. Charlie had to bite back a triumphant smile. She had the upper hand.

“.. But I don’t think he will or can do it.“ The words came out of her words before she could stop them. Miles was frowning, his eyes dark and his face grim. She regretted it instantly. What if it got Bass killed?

“You think so? He’s too far gone.“ She looked away again. She thought about how soft his voice sounded when he spoke in the dark. She dug out the picture from her pocket. Somehow, nobody had cared to take it. She handed to Miles. He carefully unfolded it. There was a grunt of recognition but nothing more.

“It was in his bedside table.“

She had no idea where she was going from here. She could remember wondering about these two friends beaming at the camera. These two brothers. She had hated Miles, not only because of Bass’ carefully one-sided accounts but also because she had been jealous of the affection Danny gave him… And later, because he was supposedly her father. And yet, the man in the picture had looked almost nice.

Perhaps she was too naive to think there was hope.

“I’m not saying that he’s a nice fluffy puppy. Just saying that maybe…“ She trailed off. She didn’t know what she was trying to say.

“I know what you mean. Bass is still in there. Somewhere. I just…“ And there he was, the man who walked away. The man who pointed a gun in the middle of the night at his best friend. Charlie shook her head.

“It’s none of my business.“ She looked away. She wasn’t his keeper. Let Monroe fight his own fucking battles, with that she vowed to herself to never speak of him again. It was inevitable that she would be forced to talk about Monroe the evil president, but she would let Bass be forgotten.

It took her years to make sense of it. Years spent coming and going from wherever her parents, Miles and Rachel were staying. What happened to her as a girl, the loss of her innocence and her childhood left scars that she was unable to completely mend. Perhaps they would never mend. But she was strong, and she could ignore it.

After Jasper, things had escalated between the Republic and the rebels. In the end, someone launched nuclear bombs on major cities. And nobody saw Monroe again. She saw him, in her mind every night. He wouldn’t leave her. Years and years of being haunted by General Sebastian Monroe and Bass.

She had her share of lovers. After a while, they were never enough and she left them. The last one had been dumped in the middle of a desert. She had made her way back to Willoughby, where her mother had found shelter at her father’s. Something had happened to Rachel at the tower. She had never been the same again.

Miles had insisted that Charlie and Nora left for Willoughby. Something in his guts had told him that hell would be set loose very soon. Both women had seen lights flicker on and then dark again… When Miles and Rachel joined them, the latter was just shell. It just as well. Charlie had grown closer to Nora, and found a calling that filled her days and night.

Miles had yelled at first but he had no say in how she chose to live her life. She was her own person, finally. Nora had trained her as a bounty hunter. Somehow, her new line of work was a perfect fit. She was free to be her own master but she could live and feed on the darkness, without being its slave.

The door creaked open. It was Nora.

“Still up?“

“I’m leaving in a few hours.. At dawn,“ yawned Charlie.

“You just came back!“

“Got word that there’s a big prize in New Vegas.“

“There’s alway a big prize in New Vegas.“ Both women shared a laugh.

“How is it going here?“

“Same old.“

“What about Miles?“ She noticed Nora looking away. “Oh so you guys did patch thing up.“

The brunette shrugged, “Not really my proudest moment. There’s something about him.. I just can’t seem to be able to brush him off. And then, there’s Rachel.“

“She’s not getting any better?“ No feelings, she felt absolutely nothing as she spoke. Even Miles had seemed to grow on her. He was gruff and bitter, but he made more sense than Rachel. It was as if Danny stood between Miles and Charlie and linked them together. But Rachel? She will forever be a stranger.

“Your grandfather say there isn’t much hope… The stroke she suffered last summer was too much for her. Whatever was left of her is gone. She doesn’t move from the bed. You’ve seen her.“

Charlie nodded.

“I know you must be thinking I’m ok with being second choice.“ Charlie shook her head. She was the last one to ever look down on someone because of the person they loved. She knew well enough of who was Sebastian Monroe, and how he had taken advantage of her vulnerability.. And yet, he was still here.. In the corner of her eyes.

“That’s doesn’t mean I’m going down easy. If we do officially shack up, he better shape up.“

Charlie beamed. She was glad Nora was still around. It was like having a luminous touchstone in a chaotic dark world.

She left Willoughby with a lighter heart. Her horse didn’t like the heat so they travelled in a slow pace. When she finally arrived at New Vegas, her contacts there told her the big prize was gone. Oh well, she thought, better take advantage of being here.

It was a mesmerizing place, full of noise and smells. She liked to lose herself in the musicality of it all. Forget about who she was and where she had come from. Here and there she could see women with dead eyes, women that she could have known if her life hadn’t changed dramatically. She never went near that area of the settlement. It made her sick to the stomach to even see men or women reaching for girls sometimes younger than she had been.

Instead, she went to see the fight. Violence was soothing, the smell of sweat, the sound of bone breaking.. That was relief. She stood by the bar, drinking far more than she should. Her vision was swimming. Damn it. After so many years, how could she still see his face with such clarity. The fighter was no longer an anonymous man but Bass giving as good as he got. She left the tent for some air. She wandered around aimlessly. Even her favorite pastime had been spoilt. When will he be leaving her alone? Too many unsaid words were bubbling to her lips. She was old enough, she knew enough.. To tell him she forgave him, even though he didn’t deserve it. To tell him that in spite of the horrible circumstances, there had always been something between them that defied time and space.

She ambled, around and around.. Until the moon was lost in the distance and she could see the first streaks of dawn. She wasn’t looking forward to traveling under the sun. She will have to find a place to stay. A little away from the general animated area, some investor had painstakingly built huge houses, with each floor rented as apartments. There was a hotel there. Charlie earned enough to be able to pay for a bedroom. She just needed a door between her and the lurid side of New Vegas.

She crossed a path that was leading towards another one of those houses when a hand landed on her shoulder. She turned around, her knife pulled without a thought; bless Nora. She pressed the blade against the neck of the man towering over her. She was hit with a familiar smell and a pair of eyes she couldn’t forget.

“Easy, Charlotte.“

“Bass.“ She choked out. She couldn’t move, her knife was still in position but he wasn’t pushing her away either. She could kill him, she thought idly. She could kill him and finally be free of him. Instead, she took a step back and slipped her knife back in her boot.

They stood face to face, without a word escaping their gaping mouth. It was if they were both struggling to breathe.

“Miles said you disappeared.“ She ventured.

“Right. You’re still with him? Them?“

“On and off.“ She didn’t offer more, eyeing him suspiciously. He was still Bass, the man in whose arms she had come back to life. If it were one of those trashy books she sometimes read in secret, she could say that he was the one who had helped her glue her pieces back into who she was now. It would sure sound pretty but it would be a lie. She was the one who had picked her own pieces and build her life from that mess.

His fingers grazed her hand. Their eyes still burning into each other. Charlie took a deep breath in. No, Sebastian Monroe hadn’t saved her. At best, he had been someone she had loved in her own broken way. At worst, he had been the last in a long lines of men who had used her a toy.

Her fingers dug into her pocket. She found what she was looking for. She pressed it into his open palm.

“ This is yours. I stole it from you.“ She looked at him carefully, as he unfolded the picture. He was barely recognizable under his scruff, sun scorched skin and the scars. He had lead a hard life since he lost his republic. She almost felt sad for him. Almost.

“Thanks. Whatever I had was lost after the bombs.“ She nodded. She had also lost everything but this picture. But things, objects didn’t matter that much anymore. They were just a means to an end. A group of rowdy people passed by them. Charlie noticed the young dazed faces, too much makeup and those disgusting men. She looked away.

“Do you want a drink? I have a place. Small place..“ She nodded. They went up to his apartment. It was a far cry from the meticulously kept private quarters of President Monroe. He pushed a heap of clothes out of a rackety chair. Charlie perched on it and watched him fill her glass with some kind of liquor.

“Sorry, I don’t have much to offer.“ She cracked a smile and took a gulp of the drink, Cheap moonshine. She had tasted worse.

“Actually, next time I should buy you a drink. Business is going well these days.“

She saw him scratch his arm, and take away a piece of cloth he had tied on his forearm. She almost dropped her glass when she saw the angry scars. The skin was charred. He noticed the direction of her gaze.

“I figured it was better to get rid of it.“

He sat down on the floor next to her chair. She noticed that other than a barely made bed, there was just a table by the chair and that was it. The rest were piles of clothes, and paper. She noticed a familiar type of announcement. A bounty for the head of the former General Sebastian Monroe. That would keep her toes warm and toasty until old age if not forever. She met his gaze again. He was looking up to her as she sipped her drink.

This is how it felt to have the upper hand, mused Charlie. They had met earlier this evening as equal but now she was reminded that he was a wanted man and she was a bounty hunter. To bring home such a prize would give her a golden reputation. Jackpot.

She slipped out of the chair, and on to the floor next to him. It would be easy to take out her knife or even the small calibre she had tucked under her clothes. It would be fast, smooth, and it would be over. Hell, he would maybe even thank her. It didn’t look like General Monroe still wanted to be alive.

In fact, for as long as she had known him, he had seemed like her : balancing at the edge of death. One step and he would gladly fall into oblivion.

“Remember when we first met?“ He nodded at her question. She had asked him to kill her. Tables always turned in the end.

“It was a long time ago.“ She added.

“They burned my cities.. All that I built. All those people depending on me.“ She nodded and he went on talking, “it was my fault. I lost it. And I can never ever say I’m sorry to them. They’re dead. They trusted me… Like others.“ His eyes finally met hers, as he turned his head to face her. “I know it’s too late. And I know it probably won’t mean anything to you but.. Charlotte, I’m sorry. For everything. I wouldn’t even know where to start. And I know it’s easy to say it now.“

She didn’t answer, instead she looked at his face. His eyes, earnest, his hands twisted around his glass. The scars still raw on his skin and those lines crinkling in the corner of his eyes. It was strange how he still felt so familiar. After so many years, Miles, Rachel and even Rachel’s father seemed like strangers. She couldn’t feel them, the way she felt Bass’ heartbeat under her skin. Miles and Nora were of course important but it wasn’t the same thing.

“I forgive you.“ She didn’t add anything else. He didn’t need to know she had forgiven him years ago. Not for him, but for herself, to move on and keep on growing. The past was gone now. The page could be turned and now it was blank. They were just two familiar strangers sharing a drink.

The words she had wished to tell him, to hurl at him sometimes or to kiss into his skin were gone. It was another life. There were no words, no explanation for what had happened between them. It just had been part of the chain of reactions that had set her free.

“So, whatever are you doing these days?“

“Oh you know.. I’m just here and there.“ She was surprised to see him smile. “What?“

“Charlotte Matheson the bounty hunter!“

“How.? How did you guess?“ He laughed and then he couldn’t stop, as if she had told him the worst or the best joke ever. She laughed with him too. They laughed so loudly and freely that someone banged against the door and the walls. There were tears streaming from his eyes and hers. Her stomach was hurting but it felt so good. It felt like they laughed for hours but at some point they regained their breath, and silence crept back in. She had never seen him laugh with such abandon, or just be without the stiff demeanor of the general or his dark mood. He was someone new, someone like that young man in that picture.

Silence settled once more around them comfortably. Only, it wasn’t really silence. He could hear Charlie breathing, this time it wasn’t all in his head. His eyes fell on the bounty for his head and a picture somehow salvaged from the Republic’s memorabilia. He looked up and met Charlie’s gaze.

He didn’t know how good she was, but perhaps she had meant to kill him in that alley. She was smiling and eying him with a fire that he had never forgotten. Only, back then she had been like a kitten ready to claw at him, tonight it was a lioness who could pounce and perhaps kill him. She was fiercer than she had ever been before. He could’t help but admire her. She wouldn’t go down easy in a fight. She never had.

“Relax. I’m not going to kill you.“ She joked.

“Why not?“ He was curious. He would have killed himself if he had been in her shoes. He did deserve it.

“I don’t need the money. “ She offered with a twinkle in her eyes.

“I’m serious Charlotte…“

“Like I said, I don’t blame you anymore. Now.. Shut up and pour me another drink.“ He stood up and filled up her glass and joined on her on the floor, their back against his thin wall.

They were sitting shoulder to shoulder.

“I need your help Charlie.“ She turned her head to look at him as he went on, in a low voice, “I have to see Miles. We still have stuff.. I need to talk to him.“

“About what?“

“Stuff you don’t even know about.. About those who launched the bombs. There’s something going on.“ He sounded earnest, his eyes never leaving hers. And yet, she knew he was her soft spot. The hard armor she had been building was nothing in front of Sebastian Monroe.

“Miles isn’t looking for trouble. He’s fine with laying low.“

“Sure. And I’m Santa Claus.“

There was a knock in the door, someone was turning the handle. Bass was already at the door, gesturing at Charlie to lower her gun.

“Hi. Hey… Lisa. What are you doing here?“

“You said you’d come. I fell asleep waiting. It’s morning! Is it Duncan again?“ The woman sounded pissed and Bass looked comically panicked. Charlie couldn’t stifle the giggle escaping her lips. The woman barged into the room.

“Seriously? Now you’re going for this type of girl… “

“Hey! Hey! Easy. This is Ch.. She’s my friend’s daughter. Now get out.“ Charlie could see the familiar temper rising but dear president Monroe didn’t have an army to force people to do his will. Just as well, the blonde gave him a sounding slap on the cheek before leaving.

“I think you deserved that.“ Charlie was still laughing.

“Not funny. It’s your fault.“ He grumbled. Charlie stood up and pat his cheek with a mocking smile.

“There. There. All fine. Poor little injured ex general… Too soon?“

But her laughter died on her lips, the feel of his skin under her fingertips had electrified her whole body. The past was finished, it was done. But whatever was between them was still here and would probably always be there. He was also looking at her with a solemn expression.

“I’ve got to go…“ She whispered.

His hand was around hers, his fingers entwined with hers. It was a gentle gesture, like a caress. She could pull away if she tried.

“Charlotte…“

“If this is about using me to find Miles, you’re getting a punch this time.“ Her retort was sharp because she could feel her inside melting under his touch. It was nothing but it was not something they had experienced before together. She grasped his hand. No, this time they were not starting with violence, then sex and then a big mess of feelings and power struggle. No. This time they were going to acknowledge what was happening and not hide behind a confused cloud of intoxication.

“Bass.“

They were face to face, nose to nose. One kiss and it would start again. Did she truly want it? He had broken her heart countless times.

“We can’t go back to what we had before. I’m not your property anymore.“ He nodded, his eyes once more whispering apologies.

“Of course not. I said I’m sor…“

“I know. I just want it be clear. And you can’t force me to take you to Miles. I will take it under advisement. “

“Understood.“

His lips were grazing against hers, “And we are equal.“ She whispered against his lips.

“Yes, equal.“

Their lips first gently brushed, then Charlie bit his lower lip. His mouth crashed against hers. And all thoughts were gone. Her hands tangled into his curls as he pulled her closer. They were breathless when their pulled away, Bass was still holding her close with one arm, as they gazed at each other.

“It will be better this time, Charlie. I promise.“ His thumb brushed against her chin. She looked into his eyes, ready to face the dark shadows she knew so well. They were in the edge of his blue eyes, but all she could see was the love that she had barely been able to glimpse years ago.

“I know it will. Or else, I’ll be a rich woman.“ He smiled even more, his eyes crinkling. He kissed again, it was even softer than before. A whisper of a kiss. As they parted, Charlie leaned forward once more and kissed his cheek. His fingers callused fingers grazing against the hollow of her throat.

“I missed you.“ It was strange to see him like this. One would have expected that the ruins of General Sebastian Monroe would be bitter as hell. But there was a gentleness in his gaze that she hadn’t expected to see. As if the years had made the seeds of love grow in his heart.

“Did you? Back then.. I never knew what you really thought. I was always in the dark. It just seems so strange.. Surreal that you’re really here. And saying this.“

“Come on, let’s sit down.“ He lead her to bed, “ I think I need to explain.“

And he started to share the tale of his dark days after the republic. The rage, the sadness… The emotions that had been eating him away. And the terrible guilt for what had been done under his regime and how many people died because of the bombs.

“It was like waking up sober for the first time after many years. I realized stuff I hadn’t let myself think about. Things I did. To so many people.. And to you.“

His voice was low, rumbling from a distance. He was speaking in the same manner he used to speak to her in the death of the night, so long ago. Only this time, he didn’t need the cover of darkness to open up.

“I know you have no reason to want to start all over with me. I don’t blame you. I was a miserable son of a bitch back then.. But… “

“You still are. But so am I. I mean.. You do remember what I do for a living, right?“ She offered him a crooked smile. They were both broken, in different places. And they both could hurt each other… But they could also grow together and find some happiness. It was high time to leave the past in the past. They slept entwined in Bass’ small bed. It was the only way they could both fit on the mattress.

Charlie decided to stay for a few days, that turned into weeks. Nora knew how to contact her and receive her message. She didn’t tell them about Bass, only reassured them that she was ok and on a job. It was through a messenger that Charlie received a longer letter from Nora. It was time to go home.

She was reading her letter for the second time when Bass came back from a fight. He was covered in blood, probably not his own. She was used to it by now. The first time, she had rushed to find him something to clean up the mess and heal his bruises. Today, she was barely looking at him.

“Something’s wrong?“

“Your face.“ She grimaced.

He wiped his face. He had some smelly ointment that he used for small cuts, and another one, Charlie insisted he used, for bruises. Once he was done, he sat down in front of Charlie. They had ended up buying another chair, Charlie’s treat.

“Bad news from home?“

“She’s dead. Rachel.“ She still couldn’t stay mom. It was strange that he should be here when her mother passed away. He had offered some kind of comfort to the sad girl she had been when she lost Ben. There were no tears, this time, all she could do was reread the few lines Nora had written describing the event.

“Heart failure. It was peaceful. I think they were all relieved.“ She had told him about Rachel’s condition a while ago, he hadn’t said anything. It was probably the kindest thing he could have done. And now he was merely scrutinizing her.

“Charlotte? You’re ok?“ She shrugged,

“Uh.. I think so.“ She had barely known the woman. And yet, a mother is a mother. The one and only, whether you felt only indifference towards her, or anger. She remembered about Bass’ family. His loss was different.

“It’s strange.“ She offered finally as she got up. She dipped a towel in the water basin and handed it to him. He wiped out the ointment. It was one of their post fight routine. Sometimes she came to watch the fight, other times she went to see her friends. Strangely enough, Duncan and her had hit it off. He wasn’t sure if he was so happy about the friendship.

“I think it’s time I went back. To check on Miles and my grandfather.“ She was standing near the door. He tried to hide his sudden fear of losing her all over again. Ever since she had turned up with her knife at his throat, his existence had become a life. Until then, it had been merely survival. He hadn’t even wanted to get back those fuckers who were pinning the bombings on him. But now, it felt as if he was breathing for the first time. It was burning his lungs. He wanted to live. He wanted to grow roots. It was surprising. This time, he had thought he wouldn’t been able to start the foolish dance again. But Charlotte was like a fresh spring morning, thunder and rain but the promise of flowers and many harvest to come. He knew he couldn’t hide anything from her, she was already patting his shoulder as she walked passed him to pour herself a drink.

After a few sips, she passed the glass to him. She was standing right behind him, her hand resting on his shoulder, another one playing with his hair. He knew she was thinking. Finally she sat down in front of him. Her face was dead serious. He took a deep breath in to brace himself.

“You can come home with me. To Miles and Nora and the rest. But,“ She raised her finger, “No shenanigans, Bass. I mean it. You better not be using me to start a mess with Miles… And build your republic back or something. Or else.“

He kissed her knuckle, “I promise Charlotte Matheson. No more shenanigans.“ Gazing into his loving eyes, she nodded.

“I will hold you to that.“

They didn’t speak again for a long time, eye to eye, they let the words they had spoken sink in. The journey back to Willoughby would be eventful, especially since he was a wanted man. The homecoming won’t be easy either. Yet somehow, they were both filled with happy anticipation. A new part of their story was starting, and this time they would be facing their ordeals shoulder to shoulder, hand in hand. Matheson & Monroe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well here we are.
> 
> I had initially planned to write many more chapters until Charlie and Bass were able to come to that place where they could have a more balanced relationship. But I have to admit that this story was no longer speaking to me, at all. I hope the characters were not too out of characters. I tried to show their evolution in a few words, how they were able to grow and able to have a healthy equal to equal relationship.
> 
> Later as I went on writing this story, I didn't want them to end up together because of the circumstances of their first meeting but I also realized that it was a shippy fic and it would be unfair for your guys for them not to end up together. So it was rather difficult. Because let's face it, it may be fiction, Bass was really really bad with Charlie in the beginning of the story, and it made me incredibly uncomfortable to imagine them living happily ever after without Bass acknowledging what he had done and Charlie choosing to forgive him and finding a reason why she could still trust him. Back when I started the story, I didn't think about these issues, my mind was more focused on the challenge as an author and the shippy part.
> 
> I hope I managed to convey that in some ways, they healed themselves before they were able to face each other again.
> 
> Anyhow,
> 
> Thank you for the support throughout the years, without it, I don't think I would have ever been able to finish this story. Really, your comments and kudos mean the world to me. I hope the ending wasn't too rushed for you.
> 
> I'm not sure about whether I'm going to leave this story online. However, if you liked it : feel free to download it. If I do decide to take it down, it won't be before a few weeks if not months (yes, I'm already procrastinating !)
> 
> Thank you for reading this story. I am deeply honored.


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